


Indomitus

by Maunakea



Category: Gargoyles (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, But Mostly Elisa Maza, F/M, Facing Adversity, In Gargoyle Form
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 60,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8866645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maunakea/pseuds/Maunakea
Summary: Some things are worse than death…





	1. End of All Things

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Grimdark content.
> 
> I've had this story lurking in my brain for some time now, finally putting it into text so it will stop haunting me. Slow build, will update when time permits. Grim dark content, please pay attention to the warnings on each chapter.

 

Demona was gloating, always a bad sign.

“Oh but it is,” she sneered, brandishing a large vial with relish. “All I have to do is _shatter this vial_ and all humanity will be destroyed.”

Brooklyn, Goliath, Angela, and two of the Hunters stood back, eyeing the vial warily. The purplish fluid swirling within was thick and ominous, almost as worrying as Demona’s too-wide smirk.

“Only our kind will survive, thanks to the power of—”

One of the Hunters appeared like a wraith, his specialty firearm primed. He pulled the trigger without a moment’s hesitation. Late to the party, he hadn’t heard the damning details and didn’t mind his aim as he should. The shot struck true, but not before passing through and shattering the vial.

Demona sucked in a massive breath, her wings splaying reflexively. This was not the first time she’d been shot, the pinpoint heat radiating shock and pain throughout her body. But under her startled expression was a vicious smile. It wasn’t how she’d planned to release her ultimate weapon … but this would do just fine.

“John!” Robyn cried, “What have you done?”

Stricken, but far from defeated, Demona snatched at the praying gargoyle. Clasping it to her chest, she bolted from the room on all fours, leaving a rapidly dwindling blood trail in her wake. It wouldn’t be long before her unnatural link to Macbeth healed her to the point that she would be untraceable.

“After her!” John cried, ripping his Hunter mask from his face. He charged down the hall, even as the sound of a shattering glass window echoed from the hallway.

Robyn stood her ground, reaching out and grabbing her elder brother’s arm. She alone understood the full nature of the monstrosity that had been unleashed.

“We have to stop her,” Jason insisted, pulling his arm back. But his sister only flinched, and shook her head. “It’s already too late.”

With a dark laugh, Demona leapt into the air and flew away.

 

***

They called Manhattan ground zero.

But the truth was, the contagion spread so fast that the entire North American continent was in a state of forced quarantine in a matter of days. The rich fled, or at least attempted to, and the last anyone heard before nation-wide collapse was that Europe was shooting down passenger planes and sinking boats in a desperate attempt to keep the plague at bay.

It might have worked, but for the magical component of the spell.

Only the Hunters had any idea of the full scope and nature of Demona’s plans … and what it would mean for the human race. They were also the first to succumb to the virus, leaving behind only panic and despair. It seemed the only humans likely to survive the plague were those of interest to a one David Xanatos, or more specifically, a fey named Puck.

“Owen,” Xanatos called for his loyal assistant, “Are we close?”

His words were almost lost to the roar of the helicopter’s rotary and the rush of wind. The side-door was open, revealing a thick forest below, the trees little more than a green blur. The helicopter’s engine was complaining, pushed to its limits and beyond, with Owen in the pilot's seat.

“Fox’s tracer is within a twenty mile radius from the river,” Owen replied, pressing the headset’s microphone closer to his lips to be heard. There was a certain strain in his eyes. It was the look of someone who hadn’t slept for days and still had long hours to go. He glanced down as a tiny hand reached up and tried to grasp the headset, and Owen murmured assurances down to Xanatos’ newborn. It was no small symbol of the powerful family’s trust in him that their firstborn son was resting in a carrier around his chest.

“If Demona has hurt Fox…” but Xanatos didn’t get to finish his threat. He doubled over instead, hacking and coughing to clear his lungs. The magical virus was hard at work trying to kill him, and he didn’t know how long he could remain upright. Agitated for his growing weakness, he snapped his helmet over his head, powering up his flight suit.

He could rest later, after Fox was safe or he was dead. The helm’s optics flashed a curt red as his tactical systems came online, and his mechanical tail flicked.

“I am certain she is still alive,” Owen called back, and there was a sudden glint to his eyes, hinting at the powerful being buried within. “But we best hurry. My … special abilities … are far more limited now. The sooner we evacuate to a safer locale, the better.”

“And how is our bolt hole coming along?”

“The underground bunker is ready,” Owen reported, “filled with everything we will need to weather Demona’s spell, including top of the line air filters and scrubbers. The magical component to her virus will linger for a few months, but the particularities of her spellwork mean the effect is short in duration.”

“It doesn’t need to be lengthy,” Xanatos scowled. “It just has to last long enough to kill every last one of us.”

Owen winced.

The loss of the human race wouldn’t mean much to the rest of the faerie folk, but the human race held a special place in his heart. Eternal life and boredom went hand in hand, and no small amount of amusement was provided by the squabbling of the mortal races.

For the immortal Puck, this loss was devastating.

He’d already been in contact with Queen Titania, requesting special consideration for the disaster. She had not been willing to counteract Lord Oberon’s edicts of no further interference, but the Queen of the Third Race _was_ willing to take some matters into her own hands.

Her words had been cryptic, and what she intended, Puck didn’t yet know, but he continued to safeguard the Xanatos family and their close allies to the best of his abilities.

Alas, his range was rather limited.

“There has been a complication,” Own called back to Xanatos, speaking around Alex’s inquisitive fingers patting at his mouth. “We’ve just lost contact with the crew tasked with supplying the bunker. I assume they have succumbed to the virus despite the filters.”

Xanatos frowned. “And you are certain your abilities will be enough to keep us safe?”

So far the chosen had remained among the living, but the humans still grew weaker by the day, even with Puck’s (and presumably Queen Titania’s) interference. Demona’s melding of science and sorcery was succeeding beyond her wildest dreams, to the horror of absolutely everyone else. With hope, the specially constructed bunker and filters would mean the difference for the Xanatos family and friends.

“Yes,” Own said — and he hoped it was true — and continued, “and I have sent a few of the automated flight suits out to complete their work and remove any … unpleasantness.”

And unpleasantness there would be, if the bodies were left to the open air for long enough. His investigation of the virus had ferreted out another damning little detail, one that he’d left unmentioned.

Demona had cast her spellwork to perfection, but the science was … well, mistakes had certainly been made. Terrible, terrible mistakes, but there was no point in alarming his employers any further than necessary. Especially with how strained they already were. It would be a few days more before that little detail might emerge, and by then they would all be safe underground … and by the time the Xanatos family emerged from their bunker to face their brave new world, that particular part of the virus should be spent.

An indicator began to buzz, and Owen tapped a key. “We are nearing Fox’s coordinates,” and the coordinates flashed into Xanato’s headset. “That should be the approximate location, though only accurate within ten miles. I would suggest a circular approach.”

“Understood,” Xanatos said and then stepped out into mid-air. His flight suit thrusters activated and he began circling. His breath was noisy in his own ears. His heart was pounding and his body ached, the virus sapping his strength and making his body strain. He was beyond exhausted, but this night wasn’t over yet.

In the distance, multiple flying forms appeared; the entirety of the Manhattan clan was arriving.

Elisa Maza had been snatched away along with Fox Xanatos, no doubt to face a special sort of vengeance from Demona. It wasn’t lost on anyone how cold and calculated her choices had been; their loss would hurt absolutely everyone left alive. Enraged, Goliath had insisted on coming with Xanatos, even though they couldn’t hope to keep up with the small, specialty helicopter. Trailing behind, they glided as skillfully as they could, and managed to stay close enough to keep within sight.

They had no choice, as otherwise they had no way to find Elisa.

Demona had left no trace of her involvement in the kidnappings … there was no ransom note, no gloating vid-recording, no communiqué of any kind. Only after an exhausting search had they finally tracked down Elisa’s missing vehicle and Fox’s crashed aerial glider.

It boded ill for both Fox and Elisa.

Other than the human women, Demona had spared the Manhattan clan any further violence. She’d sold her soul for revenge, and now she was keeping her distance; fully understanding that with the humans gone, her race needed every last surviving member for genetic diversity.

Thanks to her, Gargoyle kind could truly begin to recover and take their rightful place as rulers of the world. She intended to be around to see that glorious day.

The clan was struggling to keep up with the helicopter, but they weren’t far behind. Elisa Maza was the last of a small handful of friends they had, and they wouldn’t part with her without one hell of a fight.

Goliath roared, and glided with all his might, his loyal clan in his wake. “Hold on, Elisa!” Brooklyn cried into the wind.

The cavalry was on the way.

 

***

 

Miles away, a final showdown was in full swing.

“Now, at last, I have everything I ever wanted,” Demona purred at the two sickly, cornered women, barely a wing’s-length away. “The Hunter dynasty has been _shattered_ and the rest of your miserable race is either dead or dying,” — her tail snapped like a whip — “and _you two_ are at my mercy.”

“We aren’t down yet,” Elisa Maza snapped back, then ground her teeth. She was frightened for what was coming, but determined not to let it show. She was every bit as sick as any of the other survivors, but she’d be damned before she gave Demona any such satisfaction.

Fox was equally defiant. “You’re going to pay for this. David will make _sure_ of that.”

“He’ll do it as a widow, then,” Demona sneered, and lunged forward.

Demona was slower than she should be, but she was still too fast. Slashing at Fox, she whipped her tail and sent Elisa flying, and only Fox’s intense training kept her from taking lethal slashes.

Fox twisted and flipped over Demona’s back, only to be knocked to the side by a clever flick of a shapely wing. Demona turned on a dime, but was struck back by Elisa, who’d rallied and was trying to come to Fox’s defense.

For all of her threats, Demona wasn’t in a hurry to end this encounter. Revenge should be savored, after all. And she’d been careful, wanting this last battle to be perfect. She’d drugged and kidnapped both women during the day, intending to leave not a trace of her designs. Now it was night — to her advantage — and they were miles away from civilization. There was only the vast forest and raging river to bear witness … and with the human world in a dying shambles, rescue seemed unlikely.

Her victory seemed assured, and Demona fully intended to enjoy herself.

Demona’s claws flexed eagerly, and she charged again. The next few minutes were filled with snarling, snapping, and tail lashing as the three females clashed again and again. Then Fox managed a toss, sending Demona tumbling away with a startled grunt. Regaining her footing, Demona smirked for the blood streaking down her fingers … but killing Fox was secondary to her aims.

Hurting Xanatos was just the icing.

Elisa was the cake.

Goliath had abandoned her for a _human_ … and that was a pain that dwarfed all others. The scent of human blood wafted up from her hands, and Demona wanted more of it, much more. She whirled and regained her footing, and began to advance again. “It was you,” she snapped, all joviality vanishing from her face. Her white fangs gleamed as she advanced again, menacing Elisa with her claws. “Always you … ruining everything.”

“Then come and get some,” Elisa snapped back. Her blood was dripping down onto her jeans from a slash in her side, but her eyes remained defiant. Human and gargoyle stared each other down while Fox staggered back to her feet, shaking for the effort. She was still recovering from the birth of her son, and this entire situation was not helping.

“You _can’t_ be serious,” Demona laughed, and then her smooth voice twisted into something beyond ugly. “You _know_ how this is going to end.”

Indomitable as ever, Elisa merely brandished the thick stick that was her only defense, now that she’d emptied her clip. The bullets had slowed Demona down, but hadn’t stopped her.

The bullet holes had already sealed over, thanks to Demona’s magical link to Macbeth. But the link remained a two-edged sword as she was still in pain, as much pain as they were; for she was suffering from the virus too. Her age-long rival was infected and suffering, and she could feel his every misery. The virus was hard at work trying to end his life, wherever he might be, but she knew he would endure.

He always did.

Demona refused to let his pain stop her. She’d suffered far worse during her long life. How many times had the medieval humans gotten lucky enough to catch her … bind her, douse her in pitch and set her ablaze? It was more times than she cared to remember. But she’d endured then, and her hatred made her strong. Her attacks were relentless.

Both women were bleeding freely now, but Fox was just as defiant. “The hunters were your enemies. I don’t even _know_ you.”

“I know _you_ ,” Demona snapped back. She wasn’t really in the mood for such back and forth. There was a certain lack of begging and screaming in this encounter, and it was starting to grate on her nerves.

“Still mad about Thailog, are you?” Fox tried again, wiping at the blood from a deep cut across her face. “Anyone with half a brain could see he was unstable.”

Fox, like Elisa, was not easily cowed, much to Demona’s irritation. “Xanatos and Goliath,” Demona hissed, ignoring the jab. “I must leave them alive for now … but that doesn’t mean I can’t _hurt_ them. You two are the weak links.”

But the bulk of her hatred was focused on Elisa. “You are the one I want the most,” and she charged forward yet again, leaping up and catching the wind with her wings and coming down from on high. “ _You_ took him from me!” The last was shrieked, but it wasn’t true.

“ _You_ betrayed your clan!” Elisa retorted as both she and Fox threw themselves to the side.

But Demona had had enough. “You will be silent!” she shrieked, furious for the reminder. Then something cruel entered her eyes. “I will _make you_ be silent,” and she straightened with a smile. Spreading her wings wide, she began to murmur the words to a harsh-sounding spell.

Both women exchanged glances and then charged forward, knowing whatever Demona was trying to cast on them would be devastating. Then the last word left her lips, a celtic word meaning _to envoke_ , and for both of them the lights went out.

Fox and Elisa stumbled with startled cries, slapping at their mouths and eyes; neither could see nor hear any longer. Fox recovered faster, grabbing at Elisa and whirling her so they were back to back; otherwise they were both utterly defenseless.

Both of them steadied, yelling orders at each other at the same time, variations of _stay at my back_ and _hold on_ , and Demona just laughed and laughed, savoring the moment.

Finally, the fear she’d wanted from them was tumbling from their lips. Revenge was sweet, indeed. Then she stalked forward, intent on separating them to further torment them. But before Demona could finish her attack, the thrum of a helicopter intruded. Even worse was the approaching roar of jet engines.

The calvary had arrived.

Or at least, the tip of the spear, anyway. “Get away from Fox, Demona!” Xanatos’ overly confidant voice bellowed as he flew towards the embattled women. His arm was extended as he tracked her position, and his lips curled. Then from his wrist puffed several curls of smoke as two small missiles shot out, streaking towards her.

Too fast.

Snatching up a thick branch, Demona leapt up into the air and darted to the side to avoid the incoming barrage. She threw the branch at the oncoming missiles, and the first one detonated when her aim held true. The second detonated for the shockwave of the first, but there were more where that came from.

Pulling out her particle beam blaster, Demona was just about to retaliate when an ethereal voice drifted out on the winds, growing stronger by the moment.

Both Xanatos and Demona hesitated, weapons aimed at each other, but holding fire for the moment.

The sweet voice was indistinct, not pointed in any particular direction, and Demona cocked her head in confusion. Then her eyes widened as she realized the intent of the massive, powerful spell.

_“No!”_

The last of Titania’s spell left her lips, and the Queen of the Third Race interceded on behalf of her daughter, but most especially her grandchild.

“Mother,” Fox whispered as she felt a familiar presence envelop her, both fervently hated and dearly beloved. She relaxed into unconsciousness, even as her body began to change. Great wings sprouted from her back and a sleek tail emerged from behind.

Xanatos yelped as he suddenly had far too many limbs then he should have. His skin was thicker and held brighter hues then it should, and the Steel Clan suit shorted out as his lashing tail damaged something critical from the inside. He plummeted from the sky, his red armored suit shorting out. He hit the ground with a painful _whump_ , and lay there for long moments, stunned.

A few yards away, Elisa also collapsed, succumbing to magical confusion and illness. Her plight was unnoticed by all around her, as the Manhattan clan had yet to arrive while Xanatos was too focused on fighting his way out of his powerless armor to defend his wife.

Demona knew she was undone when a distant roar sounded, followed by numerous cries. The Manhattan clan was on the way, and their safety had to be her primary concern. Her fists clenched hard enough to draw blood, but the truth was that there were too few of her kind left, and this she knew in her deepest heart … what little the ravages of time had left of it.

Furious, Demona could see the writing on the wall and with a last scream of outrage, she wisely fled.

Meanwhile, and barely a few paces away, Elisa was stumbling along the bank of the raging river. Having lost her bearings, she was trying to make sense of her surroundings. Cold water lapped at her toes, and she stumbled back, confused. She knew better than to get too close to the river, but she had too many limbs to keep proper track of, and a murderous gargoyle was surely only heartbeats away from gutting her.

Elisa wanted to defend herself, but nothing made sense anymore. Then her strong new wings betrayed her; catching a sharp gust of wind and tumbling her headlong into the raging white water.

A moment later, and she was gone.

 

***

 

“I have Fox,” the transformed Xanatos shouted over the thrum of the landing helicopter, even as the Manhattan clan roared in.

“All of you, fan out and find Elisa! I will deal with Demona!”

After shouting his orders at his clan, Goliath banked and gave chase after the retreating Demona. His outrage guided his wings, and he was furious, intent on catching up to the source of so much pain and misery and death. Beyond stealing his precious Elisa from him, she was responsible for countless, countless deaths … piles of human bodies lining the streets … serving a constant reminder that he’d failed to protect his city.

Goliath was hell-bent on saving Elisa and dispensing justice, and the rest of the Manhattan clan stood with him, even the ones that had spoken of kindness and forgiveness just weeks before.

“Father, I am coming with you!” Angela cried, her eyes flashing a furious red, and she did just that while Hudson took Lexington and Broadway to search for Elisa.

“Separate and search the forest, lads!” Hudson called as he swooped low. Taking his own advice, the wily elder began to circle the area, peering down into the dense undergrowth for any sign of their human friend.

“I found her jacket!” Lexington cried. With a swift twist of his body, he landed and lifted the garment up, blood-soaked and sporting harsh slashes.

Broadway shouted, “Found her gun! It’s empty!” and poked at it with his tail, but otherwise refused to touch it. He’d never forgotten that terrible day he’d accidently shot her.

“Get down on the ground, all of you!” Xanatos’ powerful voice bellowed from afar. “It’s almost dawn! We need everyone in a central location so Owen and I can protect you during the day!”

“ _You_ won’t be protecting _anyone_ during the day,” Lexington shouted back. It was a reminder of his situation, and Xanatos – still laid out over the ground in his ruined armor – blinked and stared down at his hands, concern leaping into his eyes for his new talons.

Demona remained human during the day, and so it _was_ a serious concern. All around Xanatos, heavy bodies landed, and moments later, Goliath and Angela also met the ground, having circled the area with no trace of their missing human friend.

Goliath was fit to be tied. Claws curled, he snarled at the rest of them, “We are running out of time!” He was exactly correct, but there was nothing anyone could do about it. For dawn’s first rays were crowning at the edge of the world, and Elisa was miles away, hurtling down the Hudson river while struggling to stay afloat.

“Mrs. Xanatos, I must insist,” and Owen ducked yet another pointy punch; Fox Xanatos was transformed into a gargoyle now, and she was putting her claws to good use.

She, like Elisa, could neither see nor hear, and had no idea she’d been rescued. To her credit, Fox kept scrabbling around on the ground, swirling her tail around and about as if looking for someone … and it was obvious that she was trying to come to Elisa’s rescue. For if Demona was leaving her be, surely that meant she was busy ravaging Elisa?

Xanatos, too, was in something of a pickle. He was having trouble freeing his lower legs and new tail from his ruined suit of armor.

All of the humans were now enchanted into gargoyle form; all under the protection of the praying gargoyle, which was still in Demona’s possession. There was no worry that she would destroy it, and far in the distance, her irritated shriek drifted back to them. Then the rest of the clan was forced to settle for the oncoming day, their faces taunt with worry.

Miles away, Elisa floated downstream. Tumbling over and over through the swift waters, her body grew limp and near-lifeless. Her fate would have been sealed but for the sun lifting itself up above horizon.

Her gargoyle flesh hardened, and she sank like a stone to the bottom of the river.

 

***

 

Cold.

There was rushing cold all around her, and a white noise in her ears.

The last of the sunlight faded, and she felt a tickle, and then an itch between her shoulders. She flexed, found she couldn’t move, and panicked. A roar burst from her throat and her stone skin went flying, and an instant later she was once again tumbling head over heels down the river.

She fought for some time, her strong limbs working hard to keep her afloat. She instinctively struggled to the surface, though the sound of white noise was only her own mind. Her only company was her thoughts. Even her gasps and cries for help didn’t register in her own ears.

Demona’s cruel spell was still in play.

Finally, she managed to catch her claws on the jagged rocks. She dragged herself from the water, bedraggled and soaking. She still had too many limbs … a prehensile tail lashed out behind her, and two strong wings kept catching at air currents. They pulled her this way and that, making her a captive to their mimsy.

Elisa Maza stood up on the bank of the river — blind and deaf and soaking wet — and sucked in a deep breath.

Then she _screamed_.

Unnoticed and unrealized, the stars above her twinkled merrily.

 


	2. Quiet Nights

 

The first night was the worst.

There would be many other bad nights, but that first one wrapped itself around her mind like a snake and remained with her, for all the days of her life.

“Is somebody out there?! Somebody! Anybody!” and though Elisa couldn’t hear her own voice, she could feel the vibrations in her throat. She knew she was making noise, but fell silent when she realized that if she couldn’t hear, then Fox probably couldn’t either.

 _No way to find her, not like this,_ she thought, _and there is one person out here I don’t want finding me. Have to keep ahead of Demona. I won’t make it, not if she finds me like this._

She hadn’t known that Xanatos and the Manhattan Clan had been on the verge of arriving. She had no idea how close she’d been to rescue, and so it made sense to stay very quiet. As far as she knew, the only one that could hear her out here was Demona. Her only hope for survival was to keep out of Demona’s claws.

And so she wandered through the forest, stumbling here and there, trying to make some sense of where she was. _I need to get to a road,_ she decided, _and start following it back to the city._ _It’s the only way my friends will find me._

But there were no roads. In the inky darkness, there was no way to know which direction would be best. Without the sunlight, she couldn’t even orient herself for east and west. _Keep moving. Mom didn’t raise a quitter,_ and she bit her lip as grief threatened to overwhelm her.

“Keep moving,” Elisa whispered to herself as the hours passed. “You can fall to pieces after you get home.”

She’d been trying to contact the rest of her family the last few days, and clung to hope that they were alright. There was no way to be certain that Demon’s virus was as potent as she’d threatened. They’d lost all contact with the rest of the world, so there was a chance that something had happened or someone had intervened. At least her cat was safe; the gargoyles would be sure to collect and care for Cagney while she was missing. It was a sliver of comfort in a terrible situation, and she clung to that and kept moving.

 _Crack, crackle, snap,_ went the branches and leaves beneath her feet, but she couldn’t hear the sounds. There was a sharp smell of pine in the air, a certain cool wetness.

Not long after, she stumbled across a heavy Eastern White Pine. She could feel the pine needles under her fingers, and she stumbled closer, feeling around with her hands and wings and tail, though the latter seemed to have a mind of its own sometimes. The tree’s branches were thick at the base, forming a natural tent. It would do for shelter and she’d crawled inside. She’d remained curled around herself, in a ball, hiding.

As she lay there, she startled when the snake-like appendage curled around her ankle; she was cold and her own tail felt alien to her. _This happened before_ , she remembered. The night Puck had been turned loose by Demona was still hazy in her mind, but this wasn’t the first time she’d been a gargoyle.

Elisa felt along herself, flexing her wings and feeling her claws. They were sharp, very sharp. _These will be useful if Demona attacks_ , she comforted herself. Her wings wrapped around her, and she felt a little warmer. “At least I have my own built in blanket,” she murmured to herself. She’d only intended to rest for an hour or so, but that was where the day found her, and the stone sleep ended her worries.

The second night was marginally better.

When she woke from her stone sleep, she was thirsty, and her sharp sense of smell served her well. She could detect a hint of water in one direction, and she followed that scent. She grew impatient with the slow place that blindness suggested, and tried to hurry herself along. As a consequence, she kept tripping over not only her own feet and tail, but also low lying branches. She stumbled into stumps and fell into bramble bushes, and it wasn’t long before she was covered in bruises and scratches.

After falling for the umpteenth time, Elisa gave up on walking upright and settled for a lower center of gravity. She began moving on all fours, and her strong limbs made this easier than in human form. She found that keeping her wings stretched out meant she could feel a little ways all around her. There was a stout breeze, and it kept catching at her wings. It hurried her along, lessening her own weight.

Finally she found the source of water she was scenting; and knelt down and had a long drink. It was cold and refreshing, and moving swiftly. She’d returned to the river, though there was no way to know if this was the Hudson.

 _I should stay near the river,_ she decided. Fresh water was foremost of her basic needs, along with food. Her stomach growled, but there seemed nothing for it. She began moving up the river, feeling with hands and tail.

She yelped as a stout breeze off the river caught her wings, and she left the ground for a few moments. Thankfully, she returned to ground and grabbed hold.

 _Holy god,_ she thought, _I could have been dumped in the river—_

Another sharp gust, and that was exactly what happened. Her wings caught the breeze while she was mid-shuffle, and she was off and floating. She squeaked and flapped her wings, which was the worst thing to do for any gliding species. She lost the uplift and dropped like a stone.

She plunged into the water, but only up to her knees; apparently she was in a shallow section.

“Oh,” she mumbled, and then straightened. Cold water gushed around her legs, and she wobbled on the rounded stones at the bottom of the river. Sharp breezes hurried past her, and it was then that something she’d sensed at the back of her mind finally registered.

 _The wind is different out on the open water._ Without the trees and with the rushing water, the river was acting as a wind tunnel, at least in this section of it. The air currents were much stronger here.

_I wonder if I could follow them?_

It would beat crawling, that was for sure. She pondered that for a moment longer, and stretched her strong wings. They filled with air, and once again she was lifted. She hopped then, bouncing forward on gusts of wind while experimenting with her most useful of appendages. It only took several dunkings before she got it through her head that flapping was not useful.

Soon she was making decent progress, floating from breeze to breeze. The river (and she was almost certain this wasn’t the Hudson anymore) was smaller, and maybe only seven or eight wing lengths wide.

 _Rivers mean people_ , she thought to herself, and then winced. Assuming there were any people left alive and assuming they wouldn’t attack her before she could explain herself. There were all sorts of problems with that plan, but she didn’t know what else to do but keep moving.

Misreading the breeze, she lost the updraft and tumbled back into the water. She must have been at least ten feet up, because she plunged straight to the bottom of the river, her flailing arms scratching against the sandy bottom. It was a far better thing then the stabby bramble bushes for a landing, but this time the water was deeper, over her neck.

There were submerged branches all around her, and wrapped around them was … soft things. She pushed against them, and felt one of them … twitch. There was a brush of something along her side and a glance of … teeth?

 _Some sort of animal_ , she realized and kicked away. The last thing she needed was to piss off any wildlife. Her problems were bad enough without adding angry … whatever that thing was.

She broke the surface and gasped great lungfuls of air. Properly oriented, she chose to let the river rush her away from whatever she’d bothered. Her strong limbs served her yet again, and she swam to shore. This time all of her practice came in handy, and she used her tail as a crocodile would, and stretched her wings out and used them as paddles.

Halfway to what she hoped was shore and her tail encountered sand again. She stood up and spread her wings, shaking them free of water. She took a few steps forward and then stumbled on the slick, rounded rocks.

Fortunately her wings filled again, catching a good, strong draft. The force of the wind lifted her out of the water, and as she took to the air, she felt something brush along her leg, soggy-wet and waterlogged. Then she was airborne again.

 _That was weird,_ she thought, but whatever it was, at least it hadn’t hurt her. There was a smell following her though, and it was putting her on edge. She sniffed at her hand where she’d touched the creature underwater, and then groaned. Her stomach churned unhappily at the sickly sweet scent. She must have gotten some of it under her claws?

Floating lower, she reached down until she countered water and splashed her under-claws clean, and then rode the next updraft higher. Realizing what she’d just done on half-instinct, Elisa grinned at herself and thought, _at least I am finally getting the hang of this!_

The sickly smell was gone now, and she put the odd encounter out of her mind. It was heartening, knowing she could handle much of what nature was throwing at her.

She kept flying downstream, using the air currents as an indicator to stay on the water and out in the clear. It was only when she finally tried to land and the water was much deeper that she grew nervous enough to stop. Still, she felt like she’d made some real progress, and that was uplifting.

Making it to shore, she stretched out her wings and swished her tail, encountering all sorts of plants and stones and other things that were going to slow her down. Flying had been much easier…

 _No point in making it this far just to drown,_ she thought. She was sure that dawn was coming soon, and didn’t want to wake up at the bottom of the river. _Shore it is,_ and she started forward again on all fours. A sharp smell caught her attention; rank and fishy. It was different than the previous smell, and she followed that scent into a muddy pool, and discovered the remains of some creature’s fish dinner. Her gargoyle stomach burbled for hunger, but her human mind rebelled.

 _People can last for months without food,_ she thought with a cringe. _I am not so desperate yet. Who knows if I can stomach this, anyway._ Ignoring her stomach’s protests, she left the mess behind, and kept moving.

 


	3. Not Alone

 

Elisa Maza was ravenous.

Hunger was a constant companion now. She’d lost track of the days. The names, the numbers, was it still May or was it June now? She didn’t know anymore. All she knew for certain was that she was still alive, and she was hungry.

 _There,_ she thought as she turned and caught a back draft, closing and opening her wings to drop herself down a few feet towards the water. _Smells like fish here, maybe there’s something I can eat._

She circled for a moment, trying to catch the scent again, and then found it. Using the air currents, she followed the scent trail and dropped her hands into the water. She began skimming the surface while trying to fly as slowly as possible. There was a real trick to it, and she was getting better and better.

Finally her fingers encountered something floating, and she snatched it up.   _Fish,_ she realized and cheered aloud when she could tell it was big and fat and only recently dead. _It’s a trout and it’s fresh!_

She could smell red blood, and … much of the scales had already been scratched off? It smelt far better than any amount of raw fish should ever smell. Hunger was among the most powerful of spices, after all.

 _Could this mean there are people nearby?_   And Elisa began to float in thoughtful circles while puzzling over her good fortune. _Should I start yelling? Maybe I should land and see if anyone approaches?_   She was still deciding when something glanced over her back, smacking her dead between her wings. She yelped, but her thick skin took the blow with ease, and she felt talons and feathers. She realized the truth an instant later.

_Eagle!_

“Sorry buddy,” Elisa called out to the angry avian. “I didn’t mean to make you drop your lunch. But you can catch another, alright?” After the bird seemed to take her advice and the swooping thumps stopped, she bent her head to eat while floating serenely down the river.

She started with the head and worked her way toward the scaly tail. At this point in her journey, there was no hesitation. She’d already stopped being picky by the fifth night, and now anything that smelled even remotely like food was eaten. She kept reminding herself that people ate raw fish all the time, by name of _sushi_.

The thought helped, almost as much as her duller sense of taste, which was a mercy in and of itself. She was also surprised to discover that a gargoyle’s stomach was lined with proverbial steel, and nothing that passed her lips bothered it. Maybe her stomach acid was stronger than when she’d been human … but filling that aching hole inside her became a priority.

Finishing her sushi meal, she dipped down and washed her hands and mouth as she skimmed the surface of the river. Then she felt an eddy in the air current, and she dropped her feet, encountering a large and smooth rock jutting out from the water. She whirled in the air and snatched at the boulder with her strong foot-talons, and then landed there. She took a few moments to wash herself clean, rubbing her hands under the cold water and washing her face and mouth.

It was one thing she was always careful to do; take care of herself as best she could. She stayed fastidiously clean, and used her fingers to wash her teeth and fangs, and her talons to comb her hair. Running her fingers through her hair and working loose every tangle was a needed distraction.

The river was fierce here, and little splatters of water dripped over her body, providing a gentle shower. Hesitating, she reached and and ran her fingers between her legs, washing there too. It felt the same as when she was a human, with only a thick tail in proximity as the biggest change. As she cleaned herself, she had yet another whiff of fish. Straightening and still hungry, she snatched at the smell … and she’d found another fish, splashed up and onto her rock like a gift from the gods.

Or rather, it was probably from the same eagle. It was another trout, just as big with only the stomach eaten out. The sleek hunter was full enough to be wasteful, to her good fortune. Elisa merrily finished off his kill, and felt almost cheerful.

 _All kinds of good luck today. Now if I can just find a house on the river,_ she thought as she spread her wings, _perhaps I can find a phone and try to call for help. Canned food will still be good, and a decent meal of canned chili would be nice, even cold._

Once satisfied with the state of her body and stomach, she leapt back into the air, already on the lookout for more opportunities to eat, and more importantly, any chance at rescue.

 

*******

 

A few nights passed, and still there was no sign of people.

She had encountered several man-made things in the water, though. Sometimes a little dock, though she never found much in the way of houses when she tried to cast around. Without sight and hearing, she was limited to what she could smell and feel, and it was a big, big world out there.

The highlight so far was when she found a small fishing boat trapped in a shallow spot. She’d investigated an odd air current, and was delighted by her find. The fisherman was long gone, and his lunch was all but mummified, but the tin of spam she found in the bottom of the boat — against all the odds — was still good.

“Score one for processing chemicals,” Elisa cheered to herself, recognizing the distinctive shape of the tin. “Finally something other than fish!”

She’d savored every bite, and then licked her fingers clean, even under the talons … tainting the last little bits with the taste of the river. Then the wind changed, and that sickly sweet scent hit her again. It was still present, coming in off the wind all around her.

She’d gotten another strong whiff of it a few miles back when she’d floated lower over the river to cup a handful of water for a drink. She’d shied away from that slow-moving section of open water, as she finally placed the scent.

It was _rot._

Something was rotting nearby. In her heart she knew what the source of that smell probably was, and it made her heartsick. She’d encountered such smells early during the line of duty, back when she’d started as a beat cop. Sometimes she’d go out to homes where elderly people – always the ones that lived alone – had been reported missing, only to find them still there, but long gone.

Once she’d become a detective, she’d encounter that smell while casing murder scenes where the deceased victim had been left for some time. It wasn’t an easily missed or forgotten smell, but, flying down that river, it still took her some time to place it. There was something … particular about it. It also triggered her animal instincts, and made the hair on the back of her neck rise. And so the instant that smell reached her, she leapt off into the air, and let the wind take her away.

That anxious feeling couldn’t keep her down long. Her stomach was fuller and she was certain that rescue wasn’t far away. _So long as my good luck holds, I should find something, somebody that can help._

She remained hopeful, and floated downstream on strong wings, dancing through the air currents.

 

  *******

 

Elisa was still a little clumsy in the air, but she was getting better by the day.

As far as she could tell, she seemed to be making good time. She still hoped for rescue, and felt confident enough now to call for help whenever she landed. She’d worked out a little speech to shout, hopeful it might reach kind ears.

“Hello! My name is Elisa Maza! I am a transformed human being, and I am deaf and blind. If you can hear me, please call and ask for Owen Burnett at this number—”

She’d chosen Xanatos as her best bet to get out of this nightmare situation. She remembered his phone number, and that was the contact information she kept yelling out. It wasn’t ideal, but she couldn’t reach her family before she was kidnapped, and the gargoyles didn’t have cell phones, and everyone at her precinct was…

“No, don’t think about that. Stay focused,” Elisa told herself while balancing on a series of giant boulders in the middle of the fast-moving river. “And don’t fall.” She still couldn’t hear herself, but she kept talking, if just to remind herself she could.

The wind was rushing by her, and she could tell the river was foaming whitewater here. She’d been following another scent, this one belonging to a small species of crayfish. It was not her favorite meal in any way, and she could only bring herself to bite down once or twice to break the carapace, and then swallow as fast as possible.

It didn’t taste _bad_ , per say, but it didn’t taste good and the texture was … not good.

It was a moot point though, as the smell was faint, coming from empty shell fragments on the flattest part of the giant boulders in the middle of the raging river. _A small bird had his dinner out here recently,_ she realized, feeling the tiny pieces of carapace, without the trace of any useful meat.

 _Maybe he caught the crayfish in the spaces between these boulders,_ she thought, suddenly hopeful. She was disappointed and grasping at straws for something to fill her stomach. It was well past flat and onward towards concave, and she needed something to eat. _Can’t hurt to try. Can’t seem to find any fish lately…_

Crawfish could be found around rocks, right?

She remembered collecting them as a child with her mother, filling her pink bucket full of angry little crustaceans to be fried and battered for a meal with her family a long, long time ago. It was a happy memory, and she hesitated, and then dipped her long tail into the crack between the two rocks, swirling it around. There was something down there, but it wasn’t the brittle feel — and wholly offended pinches — of a crayfish.

Whatever it was, it felt soft and soggy wet and … twitching.

She had flashbacks to the first few days of this nightmare and remembered the … animals? … entangled around the roots at the bottom of the river. She winced and began to pull her tail back up, prepared to leap back into the air.

…and then the soft twitching thing enclosed over her tail and clenched down _hard_.

She felt five fingers _squeeze_ around her shocked tail and an instant later her appendage was back out of the water, and she whipped it back and forth in a panic, screaming her lungs out. That sickly sweet smell of rot was back with a vengeance and then she _knew_ and she leapt up into the air an instant later.

The worst part of the next few minutes as she wrestled with the disembodied hand with its accompanying half of an arm so firmly attached to her tail, was how _vindictive_ the damned thing was. The fingers refused to unclench, and it was mostly the decomposed state of them that allowed her to finally peel the hand off her tail and toss it away.

She was shaking then, and that rotten smell was overpowering, but she kept moving, kept flying while whispering over and over, “what the hell was that, what the _hell_.”

Flying down the river, it was some time before she could get herself to float low enough to clean that spot on her tail. But the stink was following her, the oily handprint reeking on her tail.

She landed finally, frightened and hesitant. She scrubbed her tail until the scent was gone, and knelt there, shaken.

 _There are no such things as zombies,_ she told herself, over and over. But when the sickly sweet scent came again, even stronger, Elisa leapt up into the air and stayed there.

_There are no such things as zombies._

 


	4. Twisted Civilization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Captivity, harassment (nothing explicit).

 

She’d learned to fear hands in the dark.

As she traveled down the river, the numbers of the wandering dead would vary with the speed of the water, and she learned never to land in quiet sections. The first few times she’d made that mistake had taught her terrifying lessons. Her feet had just hit the sandy bank when slimy hands had reached for her from all directions. Neither the banks nor the river itself was safe, and she’d barely survived those first serious encounters with what was left of her kind.

The twisted stench of death was a warning she never underestimated again.

A coiled spring at all times, the instant she felt the brush of fingers she would whirl and flail. In those moments, her tail was her best friend, and would instinctively knock away the intruder, giving her a few precious seconds to escape. Her lack of clothing saved her over and over. Cold, clammy fingers would land and slide along her smooth flesh with little to trigger a grasping reaction, and meanwhile she’d already thrown herself in the opposite direction, using her tail to lash them away, and her wings to lift her back up and out of reach.

The little ones were the worst though, less lumbering and much faster, especially what had once been children. Their little teeth would sink deep, and she’d have a hell of a time getting them off, and it made her twitchy as hell. After a few memorable encounters, she stopped calling for help entirely, as the sound of her voice seemed to bring the dead to her in hordes.

While flying higher than usual — suffering from an ungodly number of deep bites — she considered leaving the river, but quickly abandoned the idea. Without the river to guide her, she risked crossing vast distances with no idea of what was below, and worse, crashing into trees whenever she tried to land. The river was a highway with wind-signs she could read with her wings.

Besides, she told herself, landing in the middle of nowhere was no better than landing in the river, except that taking off from land might be impossible without a breeze, when one was almost always available along the smoother expanse of the river.

Unfortunately, the winds were not always in her favor, depending on the direction. And so she learned to circle for some time before landing. No matter how tired or how long she’d flown, she always shied away from any concerning smells, choosing to strain her wings to their limits instead.

If pressed, she would wait until the last possible second to land, just touching the sandy bank with her toes as the stone sleep transformation took her. Rock statues were of no interest to the dead. Waking from stone sleep was more harrowing, and it wasn’t long before she’d instinctively learned to avoid roaring as she woke. After that, more often than not she’d have a few moments upon awakening to get herself back into the air before being grabbed at.

While flying during the night, she tried to avoid the banks as best she could, and learned to read the winds of the river to locate and land on jutting rocks in the middle instead of the sides were the dead could and would congregate here and there. It helped keep them off of her, at least for a time. Inevitably though, they would shamble through the shallower waters close enough to lunge for her, and it meant she couldn’t linger in any one place for very long.

Desperation taught her how to skim the river with her feet and tail during the first and last hour of the night, when fish were most active. She clenched down at anything that she encountered at the surface. It meant snatching up a lot of sticks and other useless things, but once in a while she would encounter the sleek sides of a fish. Then her claws on her feet and slapping tail might snag her a fish to eat.

She quickly learned to discern between the floating or sunken parts of a body verses a fish, and if in doubt, would fly upwards with great speed, leaving anything questionable behind.

Fortunately, Demona’s praying gargoyle enchantment meant that the inevitable bites she’d received had only pained her, and not passed infection. They _were_ slow in healing, even with her stone sleep speeding recovery.

She only felt safe in the air, for no one could reach her there, or at least, so it seemed.

 

*******

 

It was a decent start to the evening; a fat salmon made the mistake of skimming the surface for insects. Her smallest talon had hooked the unfortunate’s gill, to her intense excitement.

“Finally!” Elisa cried before silencing herself. But she didn’t bother to land anyway. She just snagged the fish with her claws, biting through the back of its head. “Sorry buddy,” she whispered down to the wriggling fish, “but I need to eat. It’s nothing personal.”

Normally she wouldn’t have questioned killing a fish for dinner. She imagined her cat Cagney scolding her for feeling this way, food was food, after all. But these little animals were the only living beings she had any contact with, for however many months she’d been out here. She felt the fishes’ struggles grow weaker in her shaking hands, and some deep part of her felt bad for killing it, even as her stomach rumbled louder and louder.

 _I’m lonely,_ she knew, but there was nothing for it. She’d stopped talking to herself for the most part. It seemed useless as she still couldn’t hear herself speak, and noise brought unwanted company. She was starting to forget to bother trying to speak at all … and that worried her.

At that point, the fish had stopped moving. Her stomach clenched for hunger as she swiftly cut away the skin and scales and sliced open the belly, removing the viscera and discarding it. Dipping down, she splashed her catch in the water to clean it and then rose back up into the air. The introspective moment passed, replaced by anticipation. Her belly rumbled and she licked her lips as she relaxed into a slow floating glide, dancing from breeze to breeze some ten feet above the water.

Such flight was instinctive now and if her old clan could see her, they would have been impressed. Desperation was an excellent teacher, and above all else, Elisa Maza was a survivor.

Her dinner was nearly the size of her arm and for her hunger, was delicious. The flesh was light and flavorful. She savored every bite, a rare smile on her face. It was so hefty that it filled her stomach completely. She didn’t even bother to eat the fins and discarded the head and tail after nibbling away the tender bits.

She floated down the river a little further until wind eddies revealed the presence of large rocks below. Sniffing carefully, she couldn’t detect any trace of rot - at least for now - and she landed after feeling out a decent one with her feet and tail. It ended up being less than ideal, and she had to lean way over to reach the water.

She made due, and cleaned herself carefully with one hand while holding on to the top of the rock with the other. As she dragged sharp talons through her hair, she sniffed at the wind and lashed her tail in her nervousness. She never stayed grounded for long, and her nervousness blossomed into fear when a sudden side gust of wind carried that tale-tell sweet stench, and a strong spray of water from that same direction pre-warned her she had company.

Leaping up into the air, the wind caught her wings as the tip of her lashing tail flicked across rotting clothes and snapped off a button from a tattered shirt. Then she was up and gone, one with the wind.

 

*******

 

It was well past midnight when a startling blast of wind struck her from behind, moving against the breeze she was gliding on.

_What was that?_

She barely completed the thought when a hand with talons clasped her shoulder. She was some twenty feet above the river’s surface, and there was only one species that could manage such a feat. Her heart leapt within her and she yelped and twisted around in surprise.

Panic for the feel of hands on her body was instinctive now, as was her sudden rolling dive away … she’d spent too many months fleeing the dead to keep from reacting. But she whirled in a circle and reached out her hands, searching the air around her. The currents were back to normal, and she couldn’t tell where the hand had come from, or which direction it had vanished.

“Goliath? Is that you? Hudson? Broadway? Guys?!” She flew in slow circles with her heart pounding, and then remembered herself. “Guys! I am deaf and blind because of a spell, so I can’t see or hear you! It’s me—”

She was _so_ relieved she nearly burst into tears when the hand clasped her again. It was smaller than Goliath’s … _maybe Angela or Lexington?_ She relaxed as the hand pulled on her, guiding her down towards the ground. She landed with her rescuer, and the instant her feet touched the ground, she leapt up and hugged him, “Oh thank God, I can’t tell you how happy I am to—”

And right as her arms encircled around him was when she felt the fur. The gargoyle she was hugging was only a little taller than her, but he wasn’t one of the Manhattan clan. She blinked and stuttered in surprise, and pulled back a bit. “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled as she sat back, her hands still holding on to his arms. “I thought you were someone I knew.”

This guy was _definitely_ not from her clan!

Nor was he any of the mutates from her brother’s group. He had foul breath and was covered with thick, shaggy fur. But he _was_ a gargoyle. She could feel the talons on his hands and felt the gusts of air from his fanning wings. And he hugged her back, so that was something. From her grip on him, she could tell he was wearing clothes, what felt like a tee-shirt and shredded jeans.

He was very much a he, too. There was a suspicious bulge in his jeans … something she’d couldn’t help but notice when he squeezed her close. _I’m bare-ass naked,_ she remembered with a wince, suddenly embarrassed. She’d barely thought about that anymore. Her thick skin meant she was mostly comfortable at night and she’d grown used to it … being bare was even beneficial. It meant the mindless zombies had nothing to clasp tight to, unless they snagged the small of her wrists or ankles, but they usually weren’t that bright.

 _Well, whatever,_ she thought, even as her tail snaked up her legs and wrapped around her waist. _It’s hardly my fault._

She took in a deep breath, gathered herself, and then launched into her speech. She stumbled over the words a few times, but before she was halfway through the wind changed. The rot-smell was back. She cut off with a gasp and her rescuer pulled at her in what could only be alarm.

“I smell them too. Come on, let’s get out of here,” Elisa said, sharing his panic. She spread her wings and leapt up into the air, expecting him to come with her. He could see after all, and she was confident enough in herself — and too anxious to stay close to him — that she kept ahold of her rescuer as she took to the air. But she was startled and confused when she struggled to keep pace with him.

He was shockingly clumsy in the air. His every move was hesitant and unskilled and that was when the truth hit her. _If I was turned into a gargoyle, then_ _maybe any other human that was still alive was transformed too. This isn’t a real gargoyle … he’s a human like me!_

They flew together for a time and she couldn’t keep the massive smile off her face, even when she kept bumping into her rescuer, and he seemed a little annoyed. Finally he tugged on her and managed a clumsy turn and then they left the river. She was nervous and her hand tightened, but they didn’t travel much further. She felt the human-turned-gargoyle stiffen as they landed again, and he stumbled and nearly fell.

 _Definitely unused to flying,_ and she helped steady him, and then winced when he shoved her away. His movements were harsh, as if offended.

“Sorry about that,” Elisa offered, not sure what she was apologizing for, really, but she needed his help. He was stiff when she reached for him again. “I’m not trying to upset you. I just can’t see anything, that’s all.”

Thankfully he seemed to accept that. He grabbed her arm and pulled on her. He wasn’t the best guide and she ended up stumbling more than walking. She wanted to drop down and move on her hands and knees as she’d grown accustomed in the wilds, but that would mean asking him to let go and she wasn’t willing to do that.

Then he guided her into what had to be a cave. They walked for a few paces, and the air was cooler than outside. Then her rescuer pulled her to a halt, and stood for long moments. She could feel little movements from him, as if he was speaking to someone, and using his other hand to gesture. It wasn’t long before she realized there were others clustered all around her now. She could feel the wind currents shuffling and strong scents buffeting her, and she wrinkled her nose. It smelled like … well, it smelled like unwashed male. There was no way to tell how many transformed humans lived here, and the dark quiet went long.

She felt nervous, now, and her tail tightened around her hips.

“Hello,” Elisa said into the darkness, unsure if she was being rude, but feeling like she needed to say something. “My name is Elisa Maza, and I am so happy to meet you. I’ve been on my own for some time, and it’s been one hell of a trip.” She laughed nervously, then waited for a moment, but nothing happened. She was still holding on to the arm of her rescuer, and so she continued, “I … am deaf and blind, and I am trying to find my family. Maybe you’ve seen them, and can help me.”

She started to describe Goliath, but impatient hands pulled on her, cutting her off. “You want me to go somewhere—” and she stumbled after them as they pulled her along, “—okay, easy guys, I’m coming.”

Elisa put her detective skills to work as the group moved around her, pulling on her. She could tell they were all around her size, further reinforcing her belief they were transformed humans. From what she could feel of them, they were all wearing tattered clothes, and they were consistently impatient with her stumbling.

Her nervousness was starting to bloom into anxiety.

 _These seem like teenagers..._ she recognized the feel of them from her beat days. They strongly reminded her of a gang of rather young males. No one seemed to be in charge, and there was no sense of underlying purpose around them. She’d instinctively touched them with her wings, exploring and just trying to get a feel for them, and several slapped her wings away.

They seemed so quick to offense. “Sorry,” she tried again to apologize. “It’s just I have to use my hands and my wings to feel my way around.”

She was getting tired of apologizing for just trying to move, but she didn’t want to offend these guys, whoever they were. She had no idea what they wanted, but was relieved when they settled her into a corner, on a pile of something that felt and smelled like animal furs. They left her alone for some time after that. She imagined they were talking about what to do with her, and she sat still and waited, unsure what to do. She tried to call out to them a few times, using a firm, commanding tone, but no one approached her or responded. Frustrated, she focused on what she could sense and smell for a time, distracting herself that way.

There was a strong smell coming from the cave itself, and she could tell this group had lived here for some time. She could smell a cooking fire, could smell old meat bones and her mouth watered. _This has to be better than being alone_ , _even if maybe they think I might be trouble._

“Hey,” she called again, wrapping her wings around her. “Is there someone there that could try to talk to me?” She held out her hands. “I am really confused.”

Still no response.

With a nervous swallow, Elisa dropped down to all fours and started to move forward. Someone came at her then. He was larger than her rescuer - who had disappeared completely - and seemed aggressive. He pushed her back onto the furs and one of his hands may or may not have intentionally brushed her bare chest. Her heart sank like a stone.

“Woah, okay,” and she raised her hands in surrender. “Take it easy. Obviously I’m not a threat to you guys.”

She sat there for some time, wringing her hands. She hated feeling so vulnerable, and was starting to wish she was back on the river. She was also hungry and thirsty, and she could smell food somewhere in this cave. It seemed stale and old, but she was really hungry now. But when she called out to the darkness again and asked for something to eat or drink, still there was no response.

There were strange little breezes, and once or twice a sprinkle of dust hit her, as if there was some kind of … scuffle in progress nearby. There was a hot smell coming from all around her, acrid like sweat and frustration. It was unnerving.

“Guys, you are really starting to worry me,” she called into the darkness again. “If my being here is a problem, I’ll head on out and get back on the river.” She tried to keep her voice even and reasonable, even though her heart was aching. The tip of her tail was shivering and she felt offended and almost angry.

Elisa had just gotten to her feet when the sun crested the horizon and the stone sleep ended their strange standoff.

 

*******

The next night was no better.

The entire group seemed no friendlier then the previous night. Talking to them didn’t seem to have any useful effect, and within minutes of waking she had had enough with this strange, nasty group. _I am better off on the river,_ she decided. _I can’t stay here._

She tried to leave then, but the true nature of her hosts become apparent as soon as she put her foot down ... and they pounced on her and a group of them dragged her back to the back of the cave. She started to put up a fight, and they matched her aggression. The problem was there were too damned many of them, and she was forced to back down.

They stopped confining her to the pile of furs, but they wouldn’t let her leave the cave. Everyone she encountered was either impatient with her or outright rude. Worse was the illicit ‘accidental’ touches, which happened more frequently as the group seemed to be growing bolder by the hour.

She paced the cave, feeling her way around. Moving around the inner depths as they allowed her, she carefully mapped the space with her hands, wings, and tail, and was already working on some way to escape. After a careful search, she finally found a bucket with some water to drink, but no one offered her anything to eat. There were old bones here and there, but there was no nutrition on them.

 _These guys aren’t alright,_ she realized. They were survivors just like her, but it was obvious that they were listless and leaderless and overtaken with misery. They seemed too old not to know what they were doing, but too young to be on their own. Worse, she didn’t encounter any other females or older males … no one with any feel of authority. There was a decent group of them and now she was certain her guess was right.

 _Lord of the Flies,_ and Elisa ground her teeth. _These guys aren’t going to help me. They are working themselves towards something I don’t want and I have to get out of here, **now**._

They didn’t seem to like it when she would stumble across them and touch them. But they had no issue with touching her; pushing her away, kicking at her if she tripped over a lazily sprawled limb.

The last straw came later that afternoon when she tried to force the issue, and shoved one of them out of the way when he tried to keep her from leaving.

She was dragged back and then one of them knocked her into the small fire in the middle of the cave. It didn’t feel intentional, but she’d burnt her feet and the pain of that made her furious. She yelled at them to back off and her tail lashed back and forth, threateningly. She was relieved when they obeyed. The whole group backed off for her cry of pain, and she could tell they were all watching her check her feet.

Then someone poked at her tail; the nasty touch of a feckless bully.

 _…I think I’m in serious trouble,_ and she bared her fangs.

It was only the beginning.

 


	5. Feral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of meanness and aftermath of sexual assault. Nothing detailed.

 

Feral.

They would call her feral, at this point.

It had taken her far too long to escape the transformed river gang, and by the time she’d torn herself free, she’d lost much of her faith in people. She kept reminding herself through the worst of it that these were probably orphaned teenagers, all adrift and suffering from the loss of home and family ... and because she was disabled and different, they’d chosen to take their misery out on her.

Understanding the reasons why they were hurting her was a cold comfort. The night she finally escaped had been beyond harrowing, as she’d been almost too weak to break free. Luck had been on her side, as a storm front overtook her not long after she reached the river. The night winds became a full-on tempest, whipping and gusting down the river.

She’d flown like a mad thing and once again her strong wings saved her.

As she fled down the river, the unseen moonlight that reflected back up from the water revealed her as bone-thin and battered, all but covered in injuries from her captivity. The worst of her wounds was the broken off ... blade tip? ... lodged deep between her legs, and the sorry state of her wings, both of which suffered various tears and odd-looking holes through the membrane, near the apex of the wing-arm on both sides.

That was almost a full week ago, and Elisa was _still_ flying as hard as she could down the river each night.

Her wounds healed fitfully for her poor condition, and they still pained her. Especially agonizing was the sliver of metal broken off inside her amidst a particularly vicious attack, which was too painful to mess with. She was lucky it wasn’t immediately life-threatening, and she learned how to move while not aggravating it. Once in a while, she would force herself to try and worry it out, but invariably she would be interrupted by the stench of the shambling dead and forced back into the air. Even worse, she found she couldn’t quite reach that far inside herself with her talons.

She knew she was lucky to be in one piece … and that without the healing stone sleep, she would have been dead many times over. Captivity had left her deeply fearful, and it was some time before she finally calmed enough to skim the water again, as hunting slowed her down considerably. But she was at the point that hunger hit her in feeble waves instead of a constant ache. It wasn’t a good sign, as she’d lost even more weight while captive.

There were other changes.

Foremost among them that, for the first time since becoming lost, hopes of rescue were no longer the force driving her ever onward. Now she was focused on keeping her freedom, and finding something — anything — to eat. She only dared slow down long enough to follow any scent of fish, and the river birds were irritable to lose their late dinners or early breakfasts to her, their grudging gifts giving her the strength to keep moving.

As the nights passed, the freedom of the river soothed her, even as the electric tingle of fear sank heavily into her mind, transforming into a bone-deep wariness. The further away she flew, the better she felt, especially as it seemed no one was pursuing her. Maybe it wasn’t really a surprise there was no one following for the circumstances that had led to her escape. Hugging herself, she winced for a jag of pain down below and shivered … then put that disturbing memory aside as she followed the winds.

Then her tail encountered a jumping fish. It was a lithe little trout and she whirled and snatched at it, turning her focus towards finding food as she must.

 

*******

 

Elisa caught a whiff of brine a few nights later.

The sharp and frothy scent grew ever stronger, hinting that the river might not last much longer. The waters had grown shallow and lazy, and lined with grasses and thick mud.

 _I must be near the sea,_ and she grew nervous for it. Dawn was coming, and she couldn’t find a suitable spot to land mid-river. Everywhere was shallow and muddy, and for the weight of her stone form, she couldn’t afford to let herself sink down to her waist in it.

_Every zombie’s dream._

Though she’d hardly been grabbed at recently. She had felt only one set of hands try for her, and they’d felt odd … mossy-dry and weak. She’d lashed the wretch away with her tail and easily escaped.  

 _I wonder if it has something to do with Demona’s spell?_  

Circling around, she mused while floating down and investigating every wind-eddy that hinted at rocks below, trying to find a safe place to land for the day. _Puck suggested that her spell would only last for a certain period of time, then fade away. I wonder if that means the zombies will just … fall over and die?_

It seemed too much to hope for.

 _I wonder if he knew,_ and she frowned for the thought. _He did insist on a bunker for the entire Xanatos family, even though Xanatos seemed to prefer staying in the castle. If only I could find the castle somehow. I wonder if he invited the gargoyles to stay with him? It’s not like his money means anything now, and there would be a lot of zombies in the city._

She wanted to try to find home, but the thought of feeling her way around shattered cities — filled with shambling dead — made her heart quail, and her anxious frown only deepened when the ‘rock’ below turned out to be just a tiny cove lined with soft, sucking mud, the worst possible place to land.

She flipped herself around in midair to move off, and then swallowed back a yelp for the jag of pain from below. It was harder to twist around for the metal sliver still lodged inside her, reminding her of its presence whenever she moved wrong. With an irritable flick of her tail, she rose higher into the air and kept searching. Finally, though, she was forced to land on the muddy bank of the river for lack of any other option.

She timed her landing just as the sun began to rise, and she was right to avoid the river bank. For, sure enough, a grasping pair of hands _did_ reach out of the darkness to clench down on her. They found her right as her body began to stiffen to stone.

_Oh!_

She only had enough time for that thought as the night’s last breath brought with it a surprisingly subdued scent of rot, even as her consciousness was rapidly fading. But she was just awake enough to feel a gaping jaw clamp down on both sides of her face … just awake enough to feel the zombie’s teeth sink back into its own mushy face instead of piercing her stiffening skin before all went to the dreaming quiet.

 

*******

 

The next night she was up in the air within the space of that first frantic breath, before the remains of the shambling zombie could have another go at her. She recovered quickly, though, and the detective in her insisted on calmly analyzing the situation.

 _They are definitely getting weaker … and this isn’t a zombie movie,_ she reminded herself. The dead were just that, dead, and still decomposing. When she smelled them now, the stench was fainter, more earthy. There should be countless millions of them, especially down the rivers, but it seemed to her like they were growing fewer and fewer as time and especially insects and other decomposers had their way.

Rubbing both hands over her thin cheeks, she felt no pain or injury and slowly relaxed. The smell of brine was strong now, and she was certain she was near the ocean.

_What do I do now?_

She folded her hands over her chest as she considered, dancing across the strong wind gusts as she tried to decide the best course of action.

 _I certainly can’t just turn around and go back the way I came, that’s for sure. Maybe I should follow the coastline? But which direction is best?_ _Does it even matter anymore? It’s not like I know where I am going, or even what direction I’m … hmm._ _Wait, didn’t Matt say something about moss growing on trees, and how to figure out which way is North from that?_

She drifted from updraft to updraft and the smell of brine crowded out all other scents from her nose. The tip of her tail flicked back and forth as she debated if risking landing on the riverbank to grope some trees would be worth it. Matt said a lot of things, anyway, and not all of them were worth listening to. Soon her mind was wandering over fond memories of her lost partner, and to distract herself from her growing melancholy, she dropped down and splashed her tail through the water below.

Then she gasped when the water seemed _much_ colder than before. Suddenly suspicious, she flew in a slow circle as she brought the tip of her tail to her lips and tasted the water. Then she spat, the sharp taste _most_ disagreeable.

_Saltwater!_

_I’m not close to the ocean … I am already flying over it!_

And then the reality of that sank in. Oh. _Oh,_ and she whirled back around, frightened. She instantly regretted all her circling while simultaneously trying to remember which way she’d come so that she could retrace her flight path back to shore. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. She had to bounce from draft to draft, trying to guess which one she’d been floating on.

Using her tail to check, she realized she could feel tall waves … her tail splashing through the endless up and down motion of the ocean. All around her was freezing cold water. There was no hint what direction land might be beyond her memory of where she’d last flown. At this point, she had to work hard not to panic. She did know a few things about the ocean, including the deadly serious matter of how deep it became, frighteningly fast.

 _When I turn to stone I will sink to the bottom and then I might drown before I ever reach the surface!_ _How far out am I from the shore? Why oh why didn’t I stop and check if I was still on the river? Stupid, Maza, so very stupid! Wait, am I still going in the right direction? What if I’m actually going further out to sea instead of back toward land?!_

Panic reared its ugly head and Elisa had to force herself to focus. Years of police training kicked in, and she clenched her teeth and fists. _Focus_ , she ordered herself as her tail lashed back and forth for her intense worry. _Retrace your flight and focus on going back the way you came. If you are already lost, then you are already dead, so stay the course!_

She stayed low over the ocean as best she could, trying to keep her tail in contact with the water. She resisted the urge to try and land. She was too worried that if the ocean took her, she might not be able to get back into the air. The relatively shallow ripples of the river had nothing on the deep waves of the ocean, even though the winds were very stout.

Having long since lost the sense of the passage of time in its exacting increments, she had no idea how to estimate how long she’d been flying over the ocean, but decided to start counting anyway, if only to stay calm.

She’d been flying for fifteen minutes or so when a larger wave slapped her out of the air. With a yelp, she plunged into the freezing seawater, pulled under by the current and floundering in panic. _Oh my god,_ was her first thought as the ocean current rolled her. _Oh thank god_ was her second, when she got a mouthful of sand an instant later.

Staggering to her feet in knee-deep seawater, she stumbled first right, left, and then straight ahead as the waves pummeled her, nearly knocking her back over. Stumbling, she worked out which direction was shallower and thus towards shore.

She threw herself down onto all fours once the water was shallow enough, bolting towards dry land. Her wings were soaking but still caught a breeze to hurry her along. Gasping for breath, her heart was racing. She splashed free of the water at full speed. She felt a flutter of feathery wings around her as she tore across the firm wet sand — a resting flock of seagulls had underestimated just how fast a terrified gargoyle could run — and then her hands and feet were sinking into and scattering the softness of long dry sand.

_Safe._

She slowed and then stopped, heaving. She ran her fingers through the beach sand. She could still feel the last little remnants of warmth trapped under the soft sand from the sun, the harsh, wind-bent crabgrass and broken seashells under her fingers.

“Alailopolo,” Elisa whispered her mother's favorite curse.

Then she laughed, at herself, at how insane her life had become, at the madcap world all around her. Then she may or may not have hugged the ground, but if she did, the flocking seagulls would never tell.

 


	6. Wandering

 

For several nights Elisa followed the coastline.

So far the journey along the beach was uneventful, though the reason for that had more to do with the horrific stench she’d skirted a few miles back than any real luck.

What was left of the local zombies had turned up to feast on a rare blue whale that had washed ashore, having passed not long before. The massive blue had lived a long, full life, and his bulk was _stupendous_. His mouth lay agape in death, and no small numbers of zombies had crawled inside.

These were the last visages of the undead horde, and the cold grasping fingers that would have terrorized Elisa up and down the coastline were far too busy to bother with her now. Entirely coated in coagulating blood, they were the stuff of nightmares. They were insatiable, and even after they’d eaten their fill they kept eating ... until the decaying flesh of their stomachs burst and the whole mess emptied back on the ground, and still they showed no signs of slowing. They reveled in their massive bone and meat tent and dragged chewed viscera everywhere, wiggling in and out of bloody orifices and breaks in the skin like a happy scrum of maggots.

It was a good thing Elisa couldn’t see the chaos in the distance; such a sight could not be unseen. Fortunately, the winds had been in her favor and the scent of death and blood had warned her away before she was noticed. Trusting her nose, she’d wandered further inland and back around to the coast, avoiding the mess entirely.

The great blue had been a lovely creature, kindly and courteous in life ... even more so in death. Thanks to his impeccable timing, it seemed Elisa had the coastline to herself. She was in dire need of such peace, and other than a persistent thirst, the last few nights were good ones. Standing water so close to the ocean was always tainted with varying amounts of salt, so any little creek she encountered was greatly appreciated.

She found herself missing the river and the easy wind-signs, but her panicked flight over the ocean meant she’d lost her bearings, and with it, the river she’d been following for so long. Not that she would consider going back. She was unwilling to brave whatever was left of the violent young river clan again.

The ocean was far less of a provider, another reason she missed the river. While there were plenty of fish, the problem was she was too afraid to try and fly over the waves to skim for them. Any fish that washed ashore was inedible; either too rotten or already scavenged by seagulls. She was so used to catching her own that she wasn’t enthused by their leftovers.

Constantly hungry, she was quick to follow any interesting scents. She stuck to the shallows in her hunt for food and splashed along the gently rolling beach waves. She would stop here and there and dig around, sometimes uncovering clams. Mussels were less common, though they occasionally washed up on shore still alive and edible. Everything had to be eaten raw, but her stomach was always game and her fangs made short work of anything with a shell.

She did encounter a few small crabs here and there, but without a means to cook them, they weren’t ... pleasant. Their crabby demeanors didn’t help matters either, as she couldn’t see them and had to use her fingers to feel where to grab them. While they could hardly be blamed for trying to save themselves, their pinches were far nastier than the more cultured and dignified river crayfish.

More often than not, she just let the angry little things go.

 _Have a nice life you little monster_ , she thought at a particularly uppity one, who gave her a lovely goodbye pinch as she released him back into the gentle ocean waves. It was to Mr. Pinchy’s good fortune (he was so excitable he deserved a name) that her stomach was comfortable enough that biting through the carapace for the liquid goo within wasn’t appealing in the slightest.

Okay, that was an understatement. Raw crab was _disgusting_.

 _I’m a raw seafood connoisseur,_ and Elisa laughed to herself, and this time she actually laughed aloud. It was the first real sound she’d made in some time. The tremble of her throat reminded her, and she covered her mouth and tensed for a moment. Her wings flexed nervously as shallow waves licked coolness over her toes and tail, but it seemed only the gentle night winds concerned themselves with her, tickling at her wings. She waited for a few moments longer, alert to any danger, though none materialized.

There _was_ an unusual scent, though. It was curious and light and she only noticed it for her extra attentiveness. But it did smell good, and after a moment of careful sniffing, she teased out the direction.

Keeping low to the ground, she left the ocean waves behind. Heading out on all fours into the sparse crab-grass, she followed her senses until something soft and moist flattened beneath her talons. She was clumsy for her lack of sight — at least on land — and her inquisitive tail swished along the ground while encountering more of the soft little things, accidentally disturbing and uprooting most of them. They were all growing in what felt to be a perfect circle.

 _Mushrooms,_ she thought, and her spirits rose for the prospect of something other than seafood. She carefully felt around and encountered one she hadn’t knocked over and picked it. It gave her no trouble, almost as if it was eager to leave the ground.

 _I wish I had a bag to put these in,_ and her tail cast around again as if looking for her. A bag would have been useful, for they did smell delicious, and there was quite a few of them.

Curious, she turned the mushroom over in her fingers and brought it to her mouth. She was just about to place it on her tongue when, for the first time ever, her steel-girdled gargoyle stomach twisted in warning. Holding the mushroom to her face, there was another smell beneath the initial enticing one — it reminded her of burnt cinnamon — and her stomach churned violently.

It was a deep and visceral warning ... _don’t_.

Holding the mushroom in her hand, she cocked her head for the realization of an eerie quiet, beyond the perfect silence that she was accustomed to. Then there was a nearby rustle, the first thing she’d actually _heard_ since Demona cast her spell and she dropped the mushroom instantly.

 _Something’s not right_.

There was the oddest sense of eyes on her, and the hair on the back of her neck rose in warning. Trusting her instincts, she turned and loped away, bounding through the crab-grass, leaving the area behind. After only a few minutes of intense flight — rushing on all fours through prickly scrub — the strange feeling passed, and she relaxed.

 _Getting real sensitive there Maza,_ and she eased down to an ambling walk, chastising herself for jumping at shadows. She trusted her stomach to tell her when things weren’t okay to eat, but panicking over nothing was worse than useless. She had plenty of real things to panic about, no need to allow paranoia to add to the list...

Elisa kept moving, though.

She was too accustomed to constant traveling to feel safe standing still. Staying within the boundaries of wet and dry sand allowed her to stay close to the ocean without having to get too wet. She was still on all fours, as was her wont now, with her wings outstretched and her tail swishing around behind her to minimize running into things. She was facing into the wind, perfect to warn her of anything dangerous.

It was still early, and shaping up to be a lovely night. The soft sand was still warm, and a joy to amble upon. As she wandered, the gentle gusts buffeted her lower limbs with grains of sand. She could smell brine and old wood and grass with little hints of crab shells, and the wind caressed her face. Sometimes, she would smell the faintest hints of wood smoke, and come across the old char of beachside campfires, long abandoned.

The feel and smell of the sandy beach awakened memories of better times. Soon she was fighting off a sense of lonely melancholy and tried to hurry herself along. She knew better, as a rushing pace rarely ended well. She was quick and light on her limbs, but it didn’t always keep her from smacking into things, even with her wings outstretched. She was always getting tangled in old fishing lines or stumbling over more substantial man-made rubbish on the ground.

It was a constant reminder why she’d stayed on the river, and she missed the open safety of the water. Where she used to travel for many miles a night, on foot she was lucky to make what felt like a mile. At her fastest pace, she was mostly hopping along; letting her wings catch the wind and pull her for short distances. But truly flying along the coastline was far too dangerous, as her previous close call was still fresh in her mind.

A few decent bounds later, and sure enough, she bumped into something solid, what felt like old drift-logs buried into the sand. This wasn’t uncommon along the beach, and she bared her fangs when she banged her shoulder. Worse, the jolt irritated the metal sliver still lodged inside her. It was a painful reminder, and she rubbed at herself, sliding a finger along her smooth mound to worry at her opening. She could feel a trickle of blood drip down her leg.

 _Son of a_ …

After the pain eased, she reached out and felt along the wood, and then realized she’d found a broken fence, the first obvious signs of human habitation she’d encountered for some time.

It made her nervous.

She’d long since given up hope of rescue after her captivity with the river clan. The grasping hands from the dark only cemented her fear of human contact, and now she shied away from even the _idea_ of people. She only wanted her human family and her gargoyle clan, but she knew in her heart they were lost to her. It was a big world, and she was limited to the reach of her hands and wings and tail, and the detective in her understood that she was hopelessly lost. She still felt the urgency of needing to escape, to stay free, but the truth was, she had no idea where she was going or what she was going to do when she got there.

 _Just keep moving,_ she thought, wincing as she realized she was still dripping drops of blood from between her legs. It meant she was leaving a faint blood trail behind her, but there was nothing for it.

 … _just keep moving …_

It was the story of her life now, and she spread her wings and started bounding again, but kept stumbling across human-made rubbish; half-sunken tires filled with overgrown plants, what felt to be a broken ship captain’s wheel, thick netting, and a child’s sand bucket. The latter was too broken to be useful and she cast it away with a small frown. The mess strongly reminded her of the tiny beach-side towns with their weathered-looking shops full of antiques.

 _I might be entering a town,_ she realized, and anxiety began to coil tightly within her. The last thing she wanted was to encounter more hostile groups of people, undead or otherwise.

After another handful of bounds, the tip of her wings brushed against something _substantially_ larger. She hesitated and sniffed, realizing the air was full of various scents now; many of them man-made. She touched the wood, feeling how splintered and windswept it was, with only the faintest scent of pine to her sensitive nose. She clambered up onto it, alert and nervous. After a few minutes of careful probing, she finally recognized what she was feeling.

 _This is a porch,_ she realized. The entryway to someone’s beachfront home, like the ones she used to rent with her friends for the weekend ... little and quaint.

Maybe it was worth trying to explore?

 _If the town is empty, maybe I could claim this house for myself,_ and her tail flicked as she considered the possibilities. _Maybe the plumbing and electricity still work? A hot shower would be so nice, and clothes and dishes and if there’s a stove maybe I could cook food again_ —

 _Whoa, careful now Maza,_ and the detective in her interrupted those half-daydreams of a normal life. Chewing her lip, she waivered back and forth, because she knew this opportunity wasn’t so straightforward. The biggest worry was opening the door only to let out a horde of zombies, or worse, getting cornered by some while in a house where she couldn’t easily find a door or windows to escape. Not to mention the problems of staying in one spot … they never failed to show up if she stayed in one place.

There might be transformed humans here too, and god only knew what they would do to her. Frowning as she considered her options, she rubbed the thick of her palm over her pelvic area, reflexively worrying over the spot where she was hurting inside. On the other hand, there might be canned food inside that she could scavenge. Remembering the tin of spam from so long ago, Elisa’s mouth watered and her stomach growled with keen interest. Frankly, there were a lot of things that would make life in the darkness easier ... but was it worth the risk of being trapped?

She _could_ smell faint hints of rot, but nothing recent. It was the thought of canned food that urged her onward. _I will take it nice and slow and be careful, but I just can’t pass this up .._ and with that decision made, she began feeling around again. The wood was old and cracked, and she followed her fingers, tapping at the structure with her wings. She’d just found the door and started fumbling for the handle…

…when everything went straight to hell in a hand basket.

Something small leaped onto her back and wrapped its arms around her neck. She was instantly reminded of the quick-moving zombie children. She panicked for the feel of the skinny body clinging to her, cold skin laid flush against her back. In that same instant, she whirled like a startled cat, leaping off the porch and twisting right and left. But thin arms only tightened and held on. When thrashing didn’t work, she tried to reach over her shoulders, but the small body was too squirrelly to grab.

It was at this point that she realized she wasn’t being bitten … and by now she should be a wretched, bloody mess. _It’s a child, not a zombie,_ she thought, and she craned her neck to the side as if trying to see the youngster. The child relaxed and she felt a soft breath over her face.

It smelt of cinnamon; of tree bark.

She hadn’t made a sound up to this point, having trained herself to be silent during zombie attacks. Screaming only made things worse, but this was no zombie. She wasn’t being bitten and there wasn’t any scent of rot, and so she broke her silence.

“Who are you? Why did you jump on me? Where are your parents?” Elisa demanded, more instinctive than anything else, for it wasn’t like she could hear any useful reply. The child shifted and climbed higher now that she’d stopped flailing. Her back and neck prickled oddly wherever the youngster touched her, and she felt soft lips brush against the back of her neck, moving as if speaking.

 _Kiddo is trying to talk to me,_ she thought, and settled down on all fours, though her tail was twisting for the unease nibbling at the back of her mind; a sense of threads not properly linked together. “My name is Elisa Maza and I am deaf and blind—”

—and that was as far as she got. For an instant later the skinny body tensed and dug its heels into her sides, a rider’s universal signal for _go go go!_

The feel of those frantic little nudges transported her back to the days of playing with the neighbor’s children, of noisy birthday parties and pony rides and cake … and then something with bad breath and four paws leaped up on her, aiming for the child clinging to her back.

_Feral dogs!_

_That’s why he jumped on me!_ _This kid needs help!_

Scrambling, Elisa slapped the dog away with her tail. She could tell it was a large breed with strong jaws, a serious threat. She tried to leap up into the air. Her wings flared to their utmost, but she couldn’t catch a strong enough updraft. She was too far from the ocean and there were enough buildings around to mess up the wind currents.

And so she had to flee the old fashioned way.

Bounding forward, she felt fur brush past her wings on both sides; two more dogs had joined the first. All of them easily kept pace with her, nipping at her sides. She felt them leaping up towards the child and she twisted and turned, her wings slapping and tail lashing back and forth. If it was odd that the dogs never actually bit her, and seemed wildly fixated on the small body clinging to her back, she was too panicked to notice. Then she ran face-first into a pole — an old electrical pole — and yelped for pain even as she sank her claws into it and began to climb. All the while the child tugged frantically on her hair, bouncing on her shoulders.

“I know, I know, I’m trying!” Elisa cried as she climbed, barely noticing that the prickly feeling was entirely gone, and her back and neck felt numb. “I can’t _see_ anything! Just hold on to me while I get us out of here,” she ordered the excited child, and then panicked anew when several sets of warm hands grabbed her.

Transformed humans, and this time she did scream when they hauled her right back down to the ground. She landed on her stomach, stifling a cry for the jag of pain between her thighs and then hands were slapping at her from all sides. It strongly reminded her of the river clan and her heart bottomed out.

The dogs were gone now, and then the child’s weight vanished off her back, presumably collected by the transformed humans. And they were definitely transformed humans; they all had talons and wings and shredded clothes.

 _These must be his family,_ and Elisa followed that thought with a cringe. _They must think I was kidnapping him_ and then she remembered once again that she was bare-assed naked and just caught with a small child … _of course they would be upset! Oh Jesus what this must look like!_  

In the meantime, the slapping had stopped, but the strangers didn’t let go of her. In fact, they seemed to be trying to hold on to her, and she writhed. She could feel their hands around her, grabbing at her wrists. Realizing there was a good chance she was facing mob justice for a crime she hadn’t committed, she focused on struggling, though she was having a hell of a time with it, even as they were having a hell of a time with her.

“I’m so sorry!” Elisa cried at them as she finally managed to tear herself away. Running for her life, she shouted over her shoulder, “Please! I know what this looks like, but we were attacked by dogs and he jumped on my back and I only ran with him to save him—”

Then she crashed face-first into another fence, or was it the same one? She was all turned around and there was no way to know, but she clambered up it a second later. She leaped off the highest part, throwing herself into the air. This time the night wind was merciful. She caught a decent updraft and managed to lift off and away.

 _Nightmare,_ she keened to herself as she left her attackers behind. _This is a god damned nightmare!_

Once again it seemed the transformed humans were too clumsy to fly after her. No hands grasped at her as she flew, and she felt no suspicious breezes. Still, she was frightened as hell and stayed in the air for a bit of time, darting from air current to air current as fast as she could. But she also knew that the ocean could be just as cruel as the beach clan, and so she forced herself to keep low to the ground, perhaps only seven or eight feet above it. She frequently dropped down low enough to encounter a plant or to slap her tail against the ground … just long enough to make sure she was flying over land, and then she was back up in the air again.

It was only when her tail encountered shallow water that she realized she really _did_ need to land. _Flying lost over the ocean will kill me just as dead as a crazy mob,_ she reminded herself. It was still difficult, and she was trembling when she finally forced herself to land. Folding her wings, she gently splashed into ankle-deep water and then dropped back to all fours.

 _No more people,_ she thought as she cast around, trying to figure out which direction the shore was. _This is it, I am done, everyone is insane and I am going to find the nearest river and get the hell out of here and stay away from—_

—four paws hit her like a freight train and in a panicked blur she realized _they must have been chasing me along the ground_ and she reared up in shock and then a warm slobbering mouth snapped down on her arm and held her as the other two dogs crashed into her, one latching on to her lashing tail and the other one snagging a wrist.

This time she _did_ notice how careful they were with her, though only because they never broke her skin, and she didn’t know what to make of it, didn’t have time to even think because now the hands were back, wrestling with her. One of them pulled her hair to the side, as if looking at her neck.

That one was a woman, Elisa could tell for the softness of her chest under a blouse when they collided. But the other one, the one that was wrestling for control of her arms, that one had fur, and the feel of it against her skin triggered a deep sense of terror. Then a larger one grabbed her leg and she felt cold metal slip over her ankle and snap closed and she realized _it’s some sort of chain_ and she completely lost her mind.

“Don’t you touch me!” Elisa shrieked at the top of her lungs and she bit the one nearest to her mouth. That did the trick, and the transformed human let go of her a second later. She used her free limb to full advantage, and managed to twist away from the crowd. Reaching down as she ran, she grabbed the chain around her ankle, not surprised when it went taut as the transformed human on the other end tried to control her with it.

She yanked right back, and felt it loosen, and she ran, only to collide with one of the dogs. She tripped and fell on her face, getting a mouthful of water, and the detective in her instantly noted it was sweet and lacking any trace of salt. No time to think, _no time_ and she rolled and got back to her feet as two paws landed on her shoulders and a slobbering tongue licked a massive swath across her face, and then she turned the tables, climbing the large breed instead and then she leapt off his broad back.

Mercy at last, as a strong updraft caught her wings and the feel of it was so familiar. She recognized the way the winds were moving and why  _—_ _it’s a river! oh thank god it’s a river! —_ and she turned into the wind currents and glided as hard and as fast as she could.

She swiftly reoriented herself, flying upstream and thus away from the ocean. Behind her, the chain dragged and caught at anything and everything, but once again there was no obvious aerial pursuit. The chain snagged on something again, and she rose higher into the air, and then reached down and began collecting it, coiling the length around her ankle until it no longer dragged.

Tears of relief dripped down her face, and she covered her face with her hands as she put as much distance as she could from the coastal clan.

_No more people._

*******

**(BONUS SCENE: REALITY CHECK)**

 

 

John and Janet Feldman were arguing again.

This was a common scene; they argued a lot. It was a cornerstone of their marriage, actually. Three years of arguing with each other during the lunch hour at Janet’s coffee shop — right across the street from John’s outdoor gear store — and one day they just looked at each other and Janet said “I want a small wedding” and John shook his head and said “bigger weddings mean better pictures” and they’d been merrily arguing ever since.

This time the topic of debate was the new couple, by name of Margot and Brendan Yale. The eccentric new additions to their little family of survivors had fled New York and arrived only a week prior. Of course the Feldmans had taken in the beleaguered couple, welcoming them to what was left of their tiny coastal town. The Yales were the latest of a tiny trickle of battered stragglers traveling up the coast, fleeing the cities and piles of dead and … not dead enough.

“She doesn’t get to decide for all of us,” Janet grumbled as she helped John bury the latest zombie that had managed to scale their perimeter fence. It had shambled to the door of the small bed and breakfast the group had claimed for themselves, only to meet the protective pack of dogs the group had adopted, along with the business end of Janet’s shovel.

“Now, be fair. She wasn’t the only one to object,” John said, recognizing his wife’s issue with Margot was more from the fact she refused to help around the communal living area than anything else. “I don’t like the idea of taking on a horde of zombies either.”

“That’s the thing,” Janet said as she kicked a last bit of sand over the grave, “they are so distracted with that whale, we wouldn’t be dealing with them all at once!”

“You don’t know that for sure,” John said as he reached out for Janet’s shovel and threw his other arm around her shoulders. “The fence keeps them out well enough, and besides, they are thinning out. It won’t be long before they’re gone for good.”

John was trying to be diplomatic, but there was no way in hell he was wading into that bloody mess. But he could tell his wife was really upset over the decision the group had made that morning. Her tail was lashing back and forth, and her fangs were visible, and he found it rather cute. He was still getting used to the whole … wings and fangs and tail thing … but he gamely reached out his thick tail and wrapped it around hers in a show of support as she continued to vent.

“That could take weeks! I am tired of jumping for every little sound! Clearing them out now means they won’t be climbing our fences later—”

They both startled when Tobee started barking.

“That’s his ‘new people’ bark,” John said as he released her tail and headed in that direction. Following after him, Janet reclaimed her shovel for protection while sidestepping John’s swishing tail. Her tail was flicking too, and her wings (tucked under her shirt to hide the ungainly things) flexed a bit for excitement.

Tobee was still sounding the alarm, and began jumping up at the fence. A Rottie mix with a fair bit of Chow, he didn’t mess around when his family was in danger. They could tell by his timbre that he was seeing something unusual, but not necessarily dangerous. Still, it warranted investigation.

John could see Tobee where they’d left him, safe in the fenced yard. Tobee was pacing along the edge and seemed excited, looking towards the small fish-cleaning hut near the beach. The whole group had long since learned to trust the dogs. Close attention was paid to any warnings, and so the Feldmans weren’t surprised when they heard a door slam in the distance and Tyrone and Brenden appeared a moment later.

Both of them were carrying loaded rifles, though the lightly-built Brenden was holding his out at arms-length, and looked distinctly uncomfortable. Tyrone was the exact opposite, strong and confident. He was the biggest out of all of them, and he held a baseball bat along with the rifle across his back. His wings were tucked under his sweatshirt and he grabbed a chain from off the deck and whistled for Tobee.

“Come on buddy! Show us what you got!”

Tobee was a good boy and raced over at the sound of his name. He sat and waited patiently as Tyrone attached a chain to his collar and then unlatched the fence gate. Tyrone stopped just long enough to grab a set of handcuffs hanging there (just in case the new arrival wasn’t friendly) and stuffed them in his pocket.

Meanwhile, Margot was peering out the window at them, and Janet grumbled under her breath, “If she’s locked us out the house again I swear I’m going to—”

“Margot locked the door,” Brenden called to them, “but she said just knock and she will unlock it.” Fortunately he was too far away to overhear Janet’s unkindly muttering.

There was another door slam as a young boy, no older than eight or so, went out into the yard. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans and his wings were tucked close. His little tail was curled around his ankle, twitching for nervousness. He stepped out into the yard, flanked by two more dogs; a german shepherd and a pitbull mix. He held a crowbar (almost too heavy for him to wield) clenched tight in his hands while the two dogs bounded happily towards the fence. They quickly picked up the same scent Tobee had.

“Stay in the yard with the dogs,” Tyrone yelled over his shoulder and the young boy nodded. Then Tyrone led Tobee out the gate, shutting it before Rory and Sheba could wriggle out. Disappointed, the two dogs raced along and bounced off the perimeter fence, adding their voices to Tobee’s and kicking up a real hullaballoo.

John broke into a light jog and called, “Did you grab my—”

“—got it here,” and Tyrone pointed at the second rifle over his back. Then he and Brenden joined up with the Feldmans, and at this point Tobee was lunging at the end of his chain, all but dragging Tyrone along.

Then the mood changed drastically, and Janet gripped her shovel a bit tighter when Tobee’s timbre deepened from _happy-happy joy-joy_ - _it’s-meet-new-people-time_ to a full and vicious rage.

Alarmed, Tyrone kept a tight hold of the chain while he handed John his rifle, and the four of them hefted their weapons, and turned the corner of the fish-cleaning hut. Everyone was tense, fully expecting to see a horde of zombies on the way. But when they rounded the side, what they saw was arguably worse, and stopped them dead in their tracks.

“Oh,” Janet whispered, and pressed her hand to her mouth in shock.

For there was a naked woman outside the hut; a transformed human like themselves. She had brown skin and long dark hair, with strong wings and a sleek and shapely tail, but those lovely features were offset by the litany of poorly healing injuries all across her body. She was alarmingly skinny. Even worse, there were streaks of bright blood down her legs, and she was rubbing at herself in the way of someone forced to endure discomfort with no recourse. There was a wild look about her … a feral presence that was startling to see, and she seemed frightened. She was turning in tight circles, moving more like an animal then a human, and it was obvious she was far more adapted to her new form then all of them combined … but that wasn’t what alarmed them.

For she wasn't alone.

Ever since the loss of the human race, all manner of strange creatures (most likely bastard children of the Third Race) had become bolder, stepping out from the shadows of myth and legend.

The wood sprite clinging to the woman’s back was no exception. Hairless, its skin was the color of bark and the lipless mouth was filled with needle-like teeth. Spindly arms and legs were wrapped aggressively around the woman, and for the longest moment they all just stared at each other. This was the first time they had seen the sprite so clearly, as normally it remained hidden until its victims were fully immobile.

They had already lost several dogs to this … _thing_ … and very nearly Tyrone’s young son.

The vicious sprite look pissed to see them, and it was obvious it recognized them. It hissed, not like an animal, but the sound of a sapient being rudely interrupted. It tracked their approach with massive, jet black eyes, strongly reminiscent of a shark. Its teeth, while concerning, were less the problem. For the sprite’s real weapons were the mushrooms that it tended (which when consumed induced unconsciousness) and gruesomely, its large hands, wholly covered in retractable hypodermic needles; a mosquitoes’ stabbing tongue taken to nightmarish extremes, uniquely adapted to painlessly suck fluid from any unfortunate who consumed the mushrooms.

Normally the sprite had the barest sliver of decency to wait until its victims were unconscious before exsanguinating them, but it seemed to be making an exception tonight. Something about the woman had clearly upset it, to the point that it was attacking her outright. It had already sunk its hands into her neck and shoulder and was openly supping on her blood.

All of the dogs were freaking now.

“It’s that _thing_ again!” and Tyrone was just about to raise his rifle when John grabbed his arm to stop him.

“You will hit her,” John said, and then everyone froze when the naked woman spoke, addressing the little monster on her shoulders like she would a small child.

“Who are you?” the woman asked, and they could tell she was trying to speak gently, though she was greatly annoyed. “Why did you jump on me? Where are your parents?” … and everyone sucked in a breath when her eyes didn’t move right, and there was no way in hell she could miss the raspy hissing, if she could hear at all.

And then the sprite pressed its lips to the woman’s thin neck, eyes bright and whispered, “ _Scriosta tú mo beacáin, tú soith feckless!_ ” and while the words were lost on its horrified audience, the tones in which the little monster uttered them was perfectly clear.

Janet screamed, “She doesn't know! Loose the dog!” and then yelled over her shoulder for the boy to release the other dogs.

“My name is Elisa Maza and I am deaf and blind—”

Tyrone didn't have to say a word, or give a command, because the instant the chain was off Tobee was already charging to the rescue. He hit the woman at full speed, aiming for the monster on her back, and only her flicking wings spared the sprite from Tobee’s jaws. Maybe he knew this thing was responsible for the loss of several pack mates or maybe he didn’t, but he did them proud either way.

Spitting wrath, the sprite clenched down harder on the woman’s back and neck, threatening them while the woman panicked and tried to flee. If there were any doubts about her inability to see, they were put to rest when she stumbled and crashed into all sorts of otherwise easily avoidable things.

As skinny and weak-looking as the woman was, she put up an incredible fight. Her thrashing was maniac, and they could tell she was terrified of them, but there was nothing they could do to comfort her; they had to focus on freeing her from the sprite. To their alarm, she broke free, but then Sheba and Rory joined the fray, and cut her off, knocking her to the ground in their haste to get at the sprite, who was trying to urge the woman faster.

She very nearly escaped with the sprite still on her back when she finally stumbled across a powerless electrical pole and began to climb it. But Tyrone and the Feldmans managed to haul her down before she could get high enough. Panicking, they slapped at the miserable thing, trying to dislodge it from her while the dogs leapt and barked and circled.

Tobee darted in when the woman fell onto her side, trying to snap at the sprite, and then he yipped when the sprite managed to get a decent bite on _him_ instead, and Tobee fell away, but in the meantime, Janet had had _enough_.

“You _get off_ her,” Janet roared, and swung her shovel.

Her aim held true, and she finally knocked the little monster off the woman’s back. The sprite shrieked in pain and rage and turned to flee, but Tobee wasn’t playing. His powerful jaws clamped down around the woodsy flesh and then Sheba grabbed the other end and things escalated until the sprite’s shrieks fell silent.

In the meantime, the battered woman had torn herself away while screaming apologies, and was making every effort to escape her would-be rescuers. Realizing there was a damned good chance this panicky, squirrelly woman might actually get away — and surely die thereafter — everyone stopped and refocused on recovering her.

“We aren’t going to hurt you, honey!” Janet called after the fleeing form, dropping her shovel so she could run faster.  

“Tobee, Sheba, Rory, fetch!” John yelled, and the well trained dogs dropped the body of the sprite and happily charged back after their new pack mate, baying up a storm. ‘Fetch’ was their favorite game, and involved grabbing a beloved family member by the nearest limb and dragging them back home. It was the same game that had saved Tyrone’s young son from the sprite, and it had snatched all of them back from the teeth of zombies at one time or another.

But the blind woman caught a lucky (unlucky?) break and managed to leap up into the air and began to glide away.

“We can’t let her get away!” Tyrone bellowed and chased after her. “She’s hurt and she needs our help!” But he was preaching to the choir, so to speak. He may or may not have been more invested than the others, as he was the only one without company of the female persuasion, but the Feldmans ran with him regardless.

They managed to follow the injured woman on foot, choosing to ignore the risk to themselves in the hopes of catching her. But none of them knew how to fly, and as she picked up speed and began to outdistance them, things began to look rather grim.

“She’s landing! Look!” John puffed, sweat dripping down his back, and sure enough, the woman was floating down. She was at the mouth of a large river, and splashed into the water.

Sheba, Tobee, and Rory were meandering in wide circles, distracted by all sorts of wonderfully random scents, until Tyrone’s shout refocused them on the battered woman. They snapped back to work and charged ahead. The woman’s terrified screams filled the air as they playfully gripped her with their mouths until the rest of their human pack mates arrived. Pulling out the handcuffs and chain, Tyrone pounced with the others, and managed to get them around the woman’s ankle right before she broke away from them for the last time.

…and it was to the tune of his mournful cry when she tore the chain from his hand, and the little coastal clan watched her disappear up the river, lost forever.

 


	7. Solitude

 

It took some time to calm down after the encounter with the coastal clan.

Having escaped back into the air, it wasn’t long before Elisa’s police training kicked in once again. Her tears dried and she forced herself to focus through her fear. There was an iron taste of blood in her mouth from a cut on the inside of her lip, and her face hurt from smacking into the electrical pole. She felt strangely cold and weak all over, and she couldn’t stop her fingers from trembling. It was as if all the warmth had been drained from her, and she chalked it up to the stress of the night.

 _Probably shock,_ she thought, and tucked her hands under her armpits to help warm them. She recognized the symptoms from time spent helping emergency response teams treat civilians after accidents, but there was nothing she could do about it. Landing and curling up inside her wings to rest was flat out. Even if the coastal clan didn’t find her, the zombies surely would.

Elisa focused on what she could control — her breathing — as she floated on air currents, feeling safer above the river and the turbulent world beneath her. Eventually the panic faded, easing back into the constant anxiety that was part and parcel of her daily struggle to stay alive. This time though, the underlying upset lingered, fueled by the mortification that anyone would confuse her for a kidnapper. She’d dedicated her life to upholding the law and to hunting down and busting criminals, she wasn’t one herself!

But the chain wrapped around her ankle chaffed. It was a constant reminder of how close she’d been to captivity again. _This keeps happening, over and over. Is it possible this is part of Demona’s spell? That it makes everyone hate me, along with making me blind and deaf?_

It was a sobering thought, and a question without a definite answer.

With a pensive frown, Elisa reached down and jostled the chain, trying to feel how it was attached to her. She was upset to discover that the part encircling her ankle was in fact a set of handcuffs. They wouldn’t be easy to remove, not without the key. The trailing length was a heavy dog chain, too stout to pull apart.

 _Worry about it later,_ she decided as she relaxed her foot back down. She was careful to make sure the chain wouldn’t fall loose and cause her any trouble. It did off-balance her a little, but she quickly grew used to the extra weight on the one foot.

That sorted, Elisa flew steadily for the rest of the night, letting the brisk night wind fill her wings and hurry her along. Unseen, the full moon shined brightly down upon her. Beams of moonlight caught on the shiny links of chain, casting a shimmering reflection that danced across the water as she passed overhead.

Gliding from updraft to updraft, it wasn’t long before the briny smell of the sea faded, replaced by the muddy, rotting-plant-smell of a fetid estuary. Occasionally, she dropped down to scoop up a handful of water to drink. She found the lack of salt reassuring, proof that she was going in the right direction; away from the risks of the coastline. However she’d enjoyed the warm beach sand, she was relieved to have freshwater available anytime she wanted it.

 _At least I am back on a river,_ and that thought was comforting.

She was many miles upriver when sensation in her neck and back began to return. At first she felt only tingling, but as the numbness faded, wherever the child had clung to her, _hurt_.  It felt like a thousand bees had stung her there, especially between her wings ... and between that and the pain between her legs, she felt downright miserable.

 _Holy god,_ she thought, and tried to rub at her back, though she couldn’t quite reach it while flying. What she could feel felt wet and hot, like a severe road rash. She wanted to wash it, but refused to land in case the coastal clan was still following her somehow. It seemed unlikely for how fast and far she’d flown, but she’d been taken unawares once already.

 _No point in tempting fate,_ she decided, and so she kept going, often rolling her shoulders for the pain across her back. _Stone sleep will sort it,_ she told herself, though her natural gargoyle healing factor was very sluggish lately. More often than not she awoke sore and aching, her wounds carrying over from the previous night. The consistent lack of enough to eat was likely the source of her poor healing. It had been one hell of a journey, and she was putting a massive amount of strain on her body every single night.

Even now she was too drained to bother skimming for fish, though she was ravenous from all of her frantic exertions. All her previous imaginings of canned food and a hot cooked dinner had excited her stomach and the grumbling down below refused to subside. But she wanted as much distance between herself and people of any kind, and so she kept moving.

It was in the last hour before dawn that she began to falter.

By now the numbness was completely gone, and her back was cramping up for the strain of flying while injured. The effort of holding her wings aloft was draining the last bits of her strength. She was shaking with exhaustion, but she still didn’t consider landing until the last possible minute. The river was deep and slow-moving here; perfect zombie hunting grounds and she knew it. The wind was wrong on this side of the river and she couldn’t smell them, but she felt certain they were there.

The morning’s first rays found her spiraling in nervous circles, too anxious to risk landing on the muddy banks even as the shroud of night faded away. Wings trembling, she decided to try the other bank again, but halfway across the river the sun peeked over the horizon, and she turned to stone and plummeted into the water.

 

*******

 

The next evening Elisa awoke at the bottom of the river, buried up to her thighs in soft, sucking mud.

 _Stay calm,_ was her first thought, as she instinctively kept her mouth clamped shut while transforming from stone to flesh. The details of where she was and why came back just as the last of her stone skin fell away. Suppressing the urge to roar meant she kept her last lung-full of air as she woke under water, giving her a little bit of extra time.

The weight of the water above her was decent, suggesting she was at least twenty feet down. Her eyes opened reflexively and her strong wings flared and she felt the cold river water rushing past, felt little flecks of plant matter and water-logged leaves and the browses of tiny nibbling fish and other little touches across her body. The river mud felt sticky, but she kept her head and stayed calm. This had happened before, and she knew better than to thrash mindlessly. Bubbles left her mouth as she spread her wings and used them as paddles, shifting her weight from side to side as she flapped her wings — the only time such actions were useful! — and worked herself free.

After a few moments of intense effort, Elisa was free of the river bottom and swimming upwards. She broke the surface and bobbed there, gasping for air. After filling her lungs, she lifted her wings out of the water and caught some air between the soft membranes. She laid them flat over the water, using the trapped air as floats. It was a little trick she’d discovered, and now she could float with great ease, reliably keeping her head above the water with little effort. Letting the river carry her along, she relaxed for a few moments, though the river was pulling her in the wrong direction.

 _Soaking wet is no way to start the night, but at least I feel better. Should be safe to hunt for food now, no way those crazy people made it this far after me, not on foot ..._ and the thought cheered her greatly.

That, and the stone sleep had done her some good, as it always did. The sting across her back and neck was manageable, and the jabbing pain between her legs had eased back into a dull ache. She could tell she still had bruises across her face and body for her panicked fleeing and crashing into things the night before, but the swelling had gone down considerably.

After a bit of time to orient herself, she finally began swimming to shore, braving the risk of zombies to get back into the air. She used her tail like a crocodile, lashing it back and forth. The effort tired her quickly, as her reserves of strength were starting to ebb, even after a full night of stone sleep.

The river was of a decent size, but finally her tired feet touched the river bottom. She could feel the soft mud squishing between her toes, and she frowned. It was thick and probably deep, the standard runny muck of an estuary and she didn’t drop her weight to her legs just yet. Instead, she lifted her wings and tried to use the air currents to pull herself along.

 _Not much wind here tonight,_ and Elisa grew worried as she staggered out of the water. Now that her weight was fully on her legs, she was sinking into the mud up to her calves. It was a bad place to linger, as she was too tired and mired down to run and the pulling suck of the mud on her lower limbs worked against her ability to take to the air. Even with the occasional puff of wind in her wings, she couldn’t get airborne for the opposing force sucking her down.

 _This is not good,_ and she moved further up the bank, one slow, mucky step at a time. She was trying to get to a drier spot when the blast of sickly-sweet rot she was worried about finally hit her.

Hunching down, Elisa bared her fangs and sniffed the air, trying to ferret out the direction her soon-to-be attackers would be coming from, but the wind was coy tonight. It swirled around her with no clear course ... _they’re coming_ , _move Maza move!_ … and as she was unsure which direction to go, she just surged straight ahead while flaring her wings, trying to catch a lucky updraft.

One step, two steps, and when she came down the third time she stepped right on top of a prone zombie, one of her feet plunging through the lower belly. This one was coated in thick mud and _wasn’t_ the source of the terrible stench lumbering towards her. But upon stepping down on the wretch, she felt the splat of her foot displacing rotten entrails and then the smell was unimaginable.

 _Oh my god,_ she thought as her dear friend mindless panic knocked at the door of her mind again — threatening to move in permanently if she didn’t stop calling _every damned night_ — when the zombie reared up and grabbed her, snagging her wrist purely by luck.

At the same time the second one (the source of the smell) came at her from behind. His slimy fingers raked down her back. She felt his rotten fingernails scrape off and she instinctively lurched to the side. Normally it was enough to tear herself away, but she was still agonizingly slow for the sucking mud. She couldn’t move with any speed, and now more were joining the first two, and the zombies were all around her. Her tail lashed at the one behind her, knocking him away, but another took his place while she wrestled with the one at her front ... and all the while she mentally counted down the _one breath, two breaths_ she had before the ones that grasped her started biting.

She’d learned that count from bitter experience, not long after her journey had started. And sure enough, the first one latched down on her arm the span of two breaths later, while the second one — he would have been six feet two in life — bit down on her shoulder and she felt another set of slimy hands land...

...and yet there was one critical difference between then and now; the ravages of time.

For the first zombie had been prone for a reason. All but spent, his jaw fell off entirely when he tried to apply force to his bite. His bones weren’t properly firm anymore, as if the collagen was breaking down in an unnatural process that only the defunct Nightstone Unlimited’s team of scientists would have any hope of explaining. Although his upper row of teeth were still a little sharp, they had long since sunken uselessly into his floppy, dripping gums. His rotten arms and fingers held little strength and he had no natural weaponry with which to harm her anymore. The second was much the same, though still somewhat upright.

The zombies were every bit as hampered by the mud as Elisa was, though they remained determined to avenge themselves against anything that moved, and so as fast as she cast them away with arms and wings and tail, more joined in.

Thus began one of the most surreal experiences of her life, as she staggered towards firmer ground, dragging a crowd of hilariously inept zombies in her wake while being harmlessly mouthed and gummed over every inch of her body. Pieces of zombie were sloughing off for the rasp of her thick skin, as if she were the most abrasive piece of sandpaper in existence.

 _I want my mom,_ was her only coherent thought and in her mind she laughed until she screamed until she was laughing again and _finally_ the night wind saw fit to rescue her, sending a strong updraft right as she knocked the tottering wretches away for the umpteenth time, and her wings caught with enough strength to lift her up and away.

 

*******

 

Panic _did_ move in for a time after that.

He was a poor house guest, filling her mind full of paranoid fears and random startles. He ground her thoughts into glass and made her too afraid to investigate any hopeful scents or hunt for food. And so Elisa glided ceaselessly for much of the next two nights. She ignored her needs entirely to keep up her blistering pace, leaving the estuary far behind.

By the third night she moved through the air on instinct only, so worn down that she sank into a dream-like state as she fled; a mantra composed of splayed wings, water spray and gusting wind. Anyone that knew her wouldn’t have recognized her for the animalistic way she moved ... the quick, instinctive motions of a being wholly adapted to the skies.

By that point panic had long since packed his bags, but his children, fear and despair, remained lodged in her mind for far too long. She’d even given up cleaning herself, and now she felt gritty and dirty for it. Enough time had passed that such concerns began nibbling at her mind again, as normally she was fastidious about such things.

Elisa was listless when she landed on a large stone near the end of that third evening, finally ending her continuous flight. Her talons clasped the rough rock and her tail curled around her ankle as she wrapped her wings around herself. Reaching down, she took a moment to fiddle with the cuffs around her ankle, feeling some of her night-stone trapped between the metal and her skin. She worried the stone skin free, but the metal itself held fast, and she gave up with a sigh.

When a few moments of careful sniffing didn’t turn up any dangerous scents, she let out a held breath and sank down until she was sitting on the boulder. She winced for the jab of pain between her legs, settled, and then let her feet dangle into the cold water. After a moment of rest, she realized she could smell herself, and her wings sagged a little. It wasn’t like her to let go like this. Leaning over, she forced herself to wash her face, her hair, and then down her still-sore back and shoulders, and finally her too-sensitive lower parts.

 _The first step towards giving up is to stop caring._ _Mom didn’t raise a quitter,_ and Elisa shivered as she remembered thinking that exact thought some months previous. _Still alive, isn’t that crazy as hell,_ and maybe it _was_ a damned miracle. The thought was bittersweet though, for back then she’d still felt like rescue was only a matter of days, and she’d still held faith in the inherent goodness of human kind.

So why didn’t she feel fortunate?                                                     

 _This is your life now,_ she realized around a thick lump in her throat, and she dropped her head into her hands in grief for her loss. All around her, the air currents swirled in an endless waltz, sweet and clear. The night wind was a constant companion, and as it tickled her wings and stroked her hair, something her father said came back to her …‘take a breath of the new dawn and make it a part of you, it will give you strength’ … and she sucked in a deep breath.

As always, it was a mix of Elisa’s indomitable will and grinding hunger that brought her back to her senses, as she couldn’t just lie down and die. _Pull it together,_ she ordered herself, looking upward with sightless eyes and embracing her new life as she must. _Not dead yet, so you can’t give up. Find something to eat, and keep moving to stay ahead of all the monsters._  

As she gathered herself, her tail dropped down into the water, flicking around the base of the stone for her distress, and then an erudite little pinch announced the presence of a river crayfish. It was a fatal mistake. She whirled and snatched after it, and with one snap of her fangs the shocked little thing vanished down her throat. Another few swishes of her tail turned up several more, and she didn’t hesitate to introduce them to her aching stomach.

She was hunting for more when a new scent wafted under her nose, the musky smell of some sort of animal. Tilting her head, she tensed as she prepared to leap back into the sky, and then something large and lumbering brushed past her. She felt its wiry fur even as she left the rock in a mighty leap and glided away.

 _That had to be a black bear, it was too big and bulky to be anything else,_ and Elisa relaxed a bit for the distinct lack of aggression she’d sensed from the animal, though she’d fled the contact purely on instinct. _Black bears aren’t aggressive and I probably don’t smell like a human anymore. Grizzlies are the dangerous ones, and pretty sure there aren’t any in New York … assuming I am still stateside._

Elisa grimaced when she realized just how seriously lost she really was. Months of flying meant she could be as far as the adjoining states now, and she tried to remember if there were any grizzlies on the east coast until her rumbling stomach interrupted her musings. The crawfish hadn’t been much, but they awoke the slumbering demon that was her hunger, and filling her clenching stomach became a priority again. And so, instead of flying hard and straight up the river, she began to meander from rock to rock, hunting for anything to eat.

Elisa remained wary and always scouted her landing spots carefully, but more often than not tonight, they were clear. And so she began skimming the water again, and within a short period of time her claws caught on a fish, a recently dead salmon. It was mostly eaten, and had the same musky bear smell about it. She licked her lips and tore into the remaining meat without the slightest hesitation.

 _Thank you for this,_ she thought at the unseen bear, most grateful for the reprieve.

 

*******

 

_Mountains._

_I’m entering a mountainous region._ _I wonder if this is the Appalachians?_

It was the next night, and Elisa was floating upstream, trying to remember the names of the individual mountains. She regretted not paying attention to geography when she was in school. But she was definitely flying steadily upwards now, deep into a mountain range she didn’t know the name of. The nights were briskly cold up here, but the upside was that the zombies were practically non-existent for all the small waterfalls and steep terrain.

She had another turn of luck when she landed on the edge of what seemed to be a rock face, overcast by old trees. Sinking her talons into the stone, a fresh, earthy scent struck her. Curious, she followed it, encountering a soft, spongy mass of mushrooms clinging to the bark of a large tree, leaning out over the river. She almost shied away, but these were nothing like the coastal ring. Arranged in random clumps, they were flattish and plate-like, stacked close together. They smelled delicious to her, and her stomach was _most_ agreeable when she sniffed them closely. Trusting her ferocious gargoyle stomach to handle it, she first nibbled and then consumed the whole stand with gusto.

Mushrooms had never been her favorite thing to eat, but in comparison to what she’d been consuming, they were a light and fluffy heaven. Best of all, other than a burble, they stayed down, and she was delighted for the addition to her diet. She memorized the scent, and began to risk searching the mossy river banks whenever a hint of them reached her nose. It slowed her considerably, but she was emboldened by the lack of attackers.

It was during one such foray that she found someone’s house on the river.

Smelling mushrooms, she circled over the river, then encountered a structure high up over the river bank. At first she thought it was a rock face, only to feel the firm _thunk_ of planked wood beneath her feet as she landed. Dropping to all fours, the smell of mushrooms was stronger, but the structure was human-made and that alarmed her. Her swishing tail encountered plank wood railing, suggesting this was either a look out station for tourists, or the stilted porch of someone’s riverside home.

Then she stumbled over a table with chairs and her swishing tail encountered a stand of potted plants. _Another porch for sure,_ and turning towards them, she realized the pots were the source of the mushroom smell, and now that she was closer, she could smell mint and basil leaves.

Elisa froze then, remembering the coastal clan. _These herbs are likely being cultivated by someone,_ and she knew that meant this house might not be abandoned. Once again, she found herself facing a choice. A safe, warm house on the river would be _so_ nice, but she couldn’t handle another attack. Hesitant, she waited for a few moments, wings spread warily.

_Whack!_

Elisa startled when she felt the sudden vibration from a screen door opening and closing through the wood planking beneath her. There was a suspicious puff of wind and the smell of ... cologne? … and she reared back in alarm. Her wings filled with air as she felt the _thump thump thump_ of the wood planks beneath her as someone big and heavy strode towards her, clear confirmation that this house was far from abandoned.

Elisa didn’t make a sound, but instead leapt back into the air and fled as if her life depended on it. _No more people_ , she thought as she left whomever behind.

The risk wasn’t worth it anymore, for she’d already embraced the silence.

 

*******

 

As she traveled, Elisa encountered the musky smell of bear again and again, as if the entire population was congregating along the river banks. They replaced the zombies entirely, and that was a most welcome change. They were smelly enough that she followed their direction easily, and the older ones were shy enough not to bother her.

It was the younger ones that were bolder; last year’s crop of cubs were leaving their mothers, only to discover that being on one’s lonesome could be rather hard. Accustomed to company, they mingled easily and were bolder than their parents. As their entire species had never encountered gargoyles before, her scent didn’t trigger any instinctive fear ... nothing beyond a wary sense of encountering the unknown for the first time.

And so the youngsters would approach Elisa, too curious to let scavenging gargoyles be, but just shy enough in their approach not to frighten her unduly. She quickly learned that sending them away was simply a matter of spreading her wings to make herself appear big and scary, but after the first few peaceful encounters, she didn’t bother anymore. Soon she found herself enjoying their company. Even better, they were messy eaters, and soon she was routinely coming across their leftovers. Those first few decent meals of scavenged fish helped immensely, and it wasn’t long before the blessed event that drew the black bears to the river became apparent.

It started with a slap to the face.

She’d been flying low over the river when a large salmon leapt out of the water and thwacked her right between the eyes. She snatched up the unfortunate with a mental scream of sheer joy. After landing so as to fully enjoy her feast, she’d just started eating when another salmon swam by her tail. She whirled and snatched that one up too, and then there was another, and then another.

 _It’s filled with fish! This is a salmon run! They’re everywhere!_   Her bounty didn’t go unnoticed, and a short panic ensued when a huge body with wiry fur brushed past her, snatching up the first salmon and galloping away.

_Hey!_

Outraged, she threw her wings out wide to hopefully startle any others away, suddenly realizing how the eagles she’d occasionally startled felt, but it didn’t matter.

The running salmon were everywhere now, fighting their way upriver to spawn. At first she didn’t know what to do with herself. She was so used to leaping after even the slightest hint of fish that she forgot herself and caught way too many, more than she could ever hope to eat. It was only when the bears started showing up to her all-you-can-eat buffet in droves that she finally reined herself in.

_Don’t waste food!_

Her mother’s voice scolded her from a distant place of memory, and her father took her hand — the hand of a little child — and spoke of death and life and how important it was to be respectful of those sacrificed for the circle. Another bear brushed past her, one of many swarming now and he snatched at her pile of fish. He was a big male and his stinky breath was a little too close to her face for comfort.

Shaking off her memories, she whispered apologies to her parents and stopped snatching at every fish that brushed past her. Instead, she grabbed the biggest of her catch and leapt up and away, leaving the rest to the lazy bears behind and found herself another rock further upstream.

That night Elisa stuffed herself silly, and it was _wonderful_.

 

*******

 

_Crish!_

Her stone skin cracked and shattered, and with a flare of her wings, Elisa was reborn into another chilly Autumn night. The evenings were getting steadily colder the closer to winter it became, and tonight was no exception. The air was crisper then previous nights, and if she could see, the soft clouds of her breath wouldn’t have surprised her.

She’d slept the day away on a flat boulder, the largest of a ridge of boulders overlooking a decent, blocky waterfall. She’d found the spot just before dawn after circling up and over the waterfall. Gliding up the cascading water, she’d enjoyed the misty shower as she was hesitant to land in the river anymore. The water was so cold now that it took much longer to warm up again.

The musky scent of bear was back again, and Elisa paid them no mind. Reaching down, she scooped up handfuls of water to bathe herself, feeling over her many sore spots. Then she used her talons to brush out her long black hair, which was down to the small of her back. Relaxing, she folded her wings around herself for warmth and it wasn’t long before the brush of musky fur along her side announced the presence of the younger crowd, as the yearlings crowded in around her.

It was obvious that she’d taken the best hunting spot, and the yearlings were trying to wedge themselves as far onto her nice flat rock as possible. They were still too young to understand the intricacies of bear interactions; an adult bear would have cuffed them upside the head and sent them running for such intrusions.

Luckily for them, Elisa was rather enjoying the closeness. It made her miss Cagney all the more, though she resisted the urge to try and pet them. She knew they were wild animals and wouldn’t understand the hesitant affection she was feeling towards them. They just wanted the best possible chance at a tasty salmon dinner and she could totally understand that and didn’t want to upset them.

Meanwhile, her swishing tail was inundated with thrashing salmon, still struggling their way up the river, and she quickly snagged one and killed it. Settling back, she cut away the scaly skin with expert slices, and snatched up mouthfuls of the light flesh. This one was a female, and she swallowed down mouthfuls of roe, enjoying the salty, rich flavor of red caviar.

 _Hey buddy,_ Elisa mentally greeted one of the boldest ones as he lumbered up onto her rock, close enough that she could feel the occasional brush of his wiry fur and smell his breath. _Nice night for fishing, huh?_

He must have agreed, because she felt the wet snuffle of his nose as he took a good, long sniff of one of her wings. Then the youngster sniffed shyly at her catch, and she let him take the rest, after she’d eaten her favorite parts. Catching salmon wasn’t hard, not when there was so many, but the yearlings were unskilled, and worse, impatient. Thoroughly enjoying their company, she didn’t mind sharing her catches, as her slightly curved talons and quick tail meant she had her choice of salmon.

Then she felt splashes as the bear returned his attention towards the rushing water. All around her, the other youngsters shuffled up onto the next series of boulders, some of them licking around her feet for little bits of salmon the other yearling had missed. The group of them was so close now that she could feel them from all sides.

It was beyond comforting, though she stayed wary and would occasionally rear up to sniff at the air for any hints of danger. But by this point the zombie attacks had ceased altogether, likely for the roughness of the terrain. There was never any scent of them on the wind, not that she’d stopped being vigilant. She’d learned hard, painful lessons and they stayed with her, foremost on her mind to help keep her alive and flying.

Elisa snatched up a few more salmon, feasting until her stomach was full to bursting. By then she was being heavily crowded by the bears, and one of them was getting a little too insistent on a free lunch. _See you later probably never,_ she thought at that one as she left the rock and floated downstream. She flew for a few hours after that, finally landing on a nice outcropping of rock mid-river.

 _Maybe I will stay here to sleep,_ and she started settling down. Probing the river with her tail, she noted the water was shallow here, and the air felt crisp and clear. She was splashing water on her face when a new scent caught her attention. Instantly alert, she sat up straight and sniffed the air, orienting on where the scent was coming from.

 _Smells like old cloth and leather,_ she realized and she hunched down with her wings spread, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. The space of a few breaths passed without incident, but the smell lingered, and she frowned a little. Nervous now, she was rethinking her plan to rest until dawn, even though she couldn’t smell any hint of rot. Another gust of wind rushed by her, carrying more of that smell, seeming stronger to her sensitive nose, suggesting whatever it was … might be coming closer.

 _I don’t like this,_ and Elisa didn’t question her instincts. She leapt up into the air without hesitation and glided away. Once she was high up and floating she relaxed, and didn’t flee with any real speed as she’d associated being airborne with safety. Past experiences suggested that transformed humans were too clumsy in the air to cause her trouble.

So when a slender hand tipped with talons landed on her shoulder some twenty feet above the river, she’d already reacted before she’d even realized it. Her canny tail slapped the other transformed human away. She could tell whoever it was … was roughly her size. She didn’t feel fur, but some of the coastal clan hadn’t had fur either.

People weren’t worth the risk.

“I am deaf and blind!” Elisa shrieked over her shoulder. “I don’t want any trouble and if YOU don’t want trouble, you better just leave me be!”

It seemed her words fell on ears as deaf as her own as the hand returned a moment later, trying for her shoulder again. She struck it away, but her pursuer seemed insistent and was easily keeping pace with her. Whoever this was, they were clearly very comfortable in the air, which was unusual.

This time Elisa fell silent and stayed that way, not bothering with explanations or pleading, as they never seemed to help. Realizing she was actually going to have to outfly her pursuer, she started putting serious effort into her gliding. Thankfully the last few nights of feasting on salmon had returned a little of her strength, and she flew straight and strong. Desperation lent his aid, and it seemed like she was pulling ahead, even if she was still battered and injured and dreadfully skinny.

It seemed to work, as the hand stopped trying to grasp her, at least at first.

But Elisa could still feel the off-kilter puffs of air, and knew she hadn’t lost her shadow. Switching air currents, she darted away, even as her heart pounded madly in her chest. She couldn’t handle captivity again … she’d barely survived the last serious encounters. That she had no way of navigating whatever misery her fellow enchanted humans might want to inflict on her had been burned into her subconscious, and she no longer had any trust to offer.

Swift and clever in the skies, Elisa darted along the air currents without missing a one, trying to put as much distance between herself and the frightening stranger grasping at her from the darkness. She’d just caught the next updraft when a massive gust of wind from above warned she had company of a much more serious nature.

Then a massive hand encircled around Elisa’s shoulders to land on her arm, pulling her close as if to try and guide her. The stranger’s scent filled her senses, a muted aroma of sweat and musk and leather; uniquely male. She had instant flashbacks to the river clan and her so called ‘rescuer’ and she whirled in place in an attempt to disrupt his flight, the wind’s drag rotating them in a circle.

Elisa inhaled sharply as the tip of her wings brushed a _much_ larger set directly above her, and the sheer size of that wingspan was more than enough to compensate for her attempts to unsettle them. They were so large that they were more than enough to quell the uncontrolled chaos that the loss of the updraft should have caused.

Instead, the stranger merely straightened them out and tried to readjust his hold, in an attempt to better control her. The size of his hands was panic-inducing all on their own. But those wings! She was truly horrified for the sheer size of that wingspan and for the weight of the arm wrapped around her.

_Oh my god he’s huge!_

The male was easily three times her size and Elisa kicked and slapped at him with her tail, relieved when he seemed startled enough to fall back and away. That was good, as her foot had encountered bare skin for his lack of a shirt; his musculature was smooth and well defined and substantial.

Whoever this was, he was going to be one _hell_ of a threat if he caught her.

At this point the sense of guiding stopped entirely. Now the large male was grasping at her with intent, trying to catch hold and capture her. But she was a kestrel to his eagle, and she managed to keep ahead of him, aggressively using her tail to rebuff his every attempt to grasp her. She twisted and ducked in the air, darted from updraft to updraft, but grew frightened for the ease with which he was keeping pace with her.

Keeping ahead of the large male took no small effort on her part, and try as she might, she couldn’t shake him. _He’s keeping up with me like it’s no damned thing_ and she was so focused on gliding that she missed the third scent coming in on the wind, until a small body crashed headlong into her, derailing her.

_Another small child?!_

This one was flying oddly, more like a kite and seemed much heftier then the previous child that had jumped on her back. He was stronger too, and tried to hold on to one of her arms as the large male pounced on her from behind. Powerful arms encircled around her, but Elisa slapped the smaller one away with her tail and tucked her wings and plummeted like a stone.

Slipping through large arms that hadn’t clenched down fast enough, she threw her wings out only a few feet above the water and surged forward, using her momentum to her utmost advantage. The odd gusts were all around her, and she knew all three of them were giving chase, and she couldn’t understand their persistent aggression in the slightest.

 _What the hell is wrong with these people? Why does this keep happening?!_ … and then the winds seemed to split in two, perhaps a fork in the river, and Elisa made a snap decision, taking the right fork. It was both a good and bad decision, as she discovered when she accidentally left the main river for a tributary, a smaller stream that emptied into the much larger river.

There were massive trees on both sides of the stream, creating a canopy that smothered much of the wind, but it was too late to go back and chose the left fork. The good thing was that because the air currents dropped, only the lightest of bodies could hope to stay airborne, and for her debilitated condition, none of her pursuers were as light as she was. That, and for her practice staying in the air under adverse conditions, it seemed she had finally left her pursuers behind.

The odd gusts all around Elisa fell away, even the small child’s as any healthy gargoyle would be denser than she. Remembering the harsh lesson from the coastal clan, she kept up her furious pace until the last possible second before yielding to the dawn.

 _Fsshkt_ … and her skin tightened as she was transformed from flesh to slate gray stone, now lost to the stone sleep. The first rays of dawn glistened over her stony body, ending the chase…  
…  
……  
…...... and to her perception it wasn’t even the space of a breath and her stone skin splintered with a crumbly _crish_ and she exploded free of her stone sleep. She did something different this time, as the wind on the stream was non-existent tonight, and she knew better than to waste time staying out in the open trying to catch an updraft.

Racing on all fours, she splashed out of the stream and darted into the undergrowth, wings out and tail swishing. She fled blindly until she stumbled across another pine tree with low-hanging branches. As she had the first night, Elisa wriggled through the dense branches and huddled under that space, curling up into a ball and wrapping her wings around herself in the hopes of hiding.

 _Sniff-sniff-snuffle_ went something directly to her right, and it was only then that she noticed the very familiar musky scent. She’d intruded on someone’s comfortable bed of pine-needles, and now the original occupant of the tree-branch-tent was investigating the disturbance.

Elisa could tell by his strong musk that this was a large bruin, a fully adult male with many years under his non-existent belt. _It’s just me! Oh for god’s sake won’t you be quiet,_ and she clenched her wings even tighter around herself.

Another few curious snuffles, and then Elisa felt the grizzled old bear stiffen beside her. He was up on all fours a moment later and then accidentally trod on her tail in his haste to flee, and Elisa didn’t have to guess what had sent a full grown bear fleeing for his life.

Especially when a heavy body exploded through the pine branches and landed atop her, all tense muscle and sinew, with his huge hands scrabbling for her wrists. He was large and strong and covered her body with his own, and his thick tail coiled down and around hers, easily three times her size.

This time Elisa _did_ scream.

Once again, the male atop her startled for the sheer terror in her voice, and she took full advantage of his momentary lapse. It took every bit of her strength to throw him, and even as she knocked him away she could already feel him recovering. She felt as his tail snagged along her leg, trying to catch at her foot as she bolted away. His pursuing appendage dislodged the dog-chain still coiled around her ankle, though he didn’t quite manage to trip her up.

Elisa felt the chain-length tumble down and start dragging behind her, but there was nothing for it. The large male was not even a breath behind her, chasing after her on all fours. His breath was hot over her lower back, and her horrified tail curled under her to keep him from grabbing at it.

Then her heart skipped a beat when she felt the trailing end of the chain go taut — someone had grabbed the dragging end — and she whirled and yanked back as hard as she could, attempting the same trick she’d pulled on the coastal clan. But whoever had her by the ankle held fast.

Not a split-second later the large male pounced and all his weight came crashing down atop her. He wasn’t messing around this time, and his grasp was fiercely tight as he flattened her to the ground, knocking the wind from her lungs. His tail clenched firmly around her own, and she cringed for the strangely possessive feel of his hands and tail.

 _I’m as good as dead_ , and right as that thought hit, Elisa’s old friend mindless panic merrily kicked down the door of her mind and waltzed in for yet another extended stay.

 


	8. Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: The next few chapters is where the explicit warning starts coming into play … non-con touches, and mentions of abuse from previous captivity.

 

She couldn’t break his grasp.

The big male’s hands were like iron, massive and unyielding. She thrashed this way and that as he walked, but she may as well been holding still for all the good it did her. He held her wrists with one hand while the other kept her tucked close and contained, and he wouldn’t loosen his grip for anything. She could feel from his smooth movements how easily he was restraining her. He seemed healthy and strong, and had the long stride of the very large and powerful.

It didn’t bode well.

The big male carried her for some time, and occasionally she could feel the brush of leaves and branches. Then he stepped out of the thick undergrowth and began following the stream back the way they’d came. She could tell because sometimes his footing would wobble for the rounded river stones and little droplets of water would splash her tail, currently entangled and trapped by his larger one.

Realizing the futility, Elisa finally stopped struggling and fell quiet. _Don’t tire yourself for nothing,_ she thought, already mentally shutting down and sinking into a base survival mode. _Getting away from this guy isn’t going to be easy. It’s not just a matter of twisting away … have to outrun him too. Best wait for some sort of opening …_

Exhausted, she finally let herself slump down and rest, dangling limply in the large male’s arms. Even after her last few nights of feasting, she didn’t have the stamina for a struggle like this. Her chest was heaving for all her thrashing and a drop of sweat trickled down her back.

Elisa flinched when the big male took the opportunity to adjust his grip. He pulled her closer and she could feel his heartbeat, the cadence like a slow and steady drum. She felt his tail relax, and she resisted the urge to squirm when it slid down her own, however unintentional that sensual slide of skin.

Her breathing had just calmed when Elisa realized she could smell water in the air. She felt a gust from a familiar wind current. _We are back on the river,_ she realized. The male spread his wings — she could feel the swirl of air currents interrupted — and then he took to the air. They flew for a time, not too far, and she tried to memorize the direction from the river. She knew she would have to find her way back in a hurry when she finally broke free of this … mountain clan.

Then what Elisa feared most came to pass.

The big male landed and started walking again. His pace quickened and she felt a change in the air, suggesting they were entering an enclosed space, most likely a cave. Memories of all the horrors she’d suffered the last time she’d been trapped in a cave came roaring back. Her sightless eyes widened for the familiar sense of stifled air and a surge of terror filled her.

Oblivious to her reaction, the large male strode further into that enclosed space even as a heartsick whine rattled inside her throat … though it didn’t make it past her lips. She was guarding her silence, as some of the worst attacks from the river clan had been after she’d said something they hadn’t liked.

Pleading for them to _stop hurting her_ and to just _let her go_ _for god’s sake_ had been foremost among such triggers. Any reminder that they were tormenting a living, feeling person made them particularly belligerent, and always earned her pain. Biting her tongue, she relied on her previous experiences to navigate this terrifying turn of events.

For above all other things, Elisa Maza was a survivor.

 _Can’t do this again, can’t let this happen again,_ and Elisa pulled in a deep breath. Grasping her terror in both hands, she used that fear as fuel and turned on her captor with everything she was. She fought savagely, clawing and snapping her fangs and managed to startle the big male into dropping her.

They were already well inside the cave at this point, but there was nothing for it. The instant her feet hit the floor, Elisa dropped to all fours and tore away. She oriented herself towards where the fresh air was coming from, back towards the cave entrance. She could tell from the helter-skelter air currents that she was being chased. It seemed all of them were after her, foremost the big male that leapt around — how was it fair that a guy that big was that fast?! — to take the lead in recapturing her.

_Go go go!_

She took the distance in wild leaps to stay above anything that could trip her up, and there seemed plenty of that. Pots and kettles and what felt like stacks of sticks — firewood? — and other belongings scattered for her wild run. The uneven footing added to her panic, who was currently still unpacking his bags while merrily cheering her on from the deep recesses of her mind.

Meanwhile, the big male had dropped to all fours in chase and she could tell he was right on her tail. Then, and with an almighty leap, he landed in front of her and whirled. She felt the _whump_ of his landing and tried to dart around him, but he blocked her. She slapped him silly with her tail in retaliation, even as she felt the others coming at her from behind.

Remembering the feral dog, she leapt up and her wings flared and she climbed right over the top of him.

The big male seemed constantly startled for her tenacity, but was every bit as stubborn as she. He quickly recovered from his surprise and grabbed at her as she came back down. She rolled like a crocodile and felt him jerk when her sharp fangs clamped down on him. It was a deep bite, the worst she could offer. The tip of her fangs ground down to the bone of his wrist, and she slapped him upside the head with her tail for good measure.

She’d never been a biter, but her memories of escaping the large male from the coastal clan meant she was willing to give it a damned good try. So far her results were satisfactory, as her tormentor fell back in shock and pushed her away with the flat of his palms and tail.

 _Don’t like being bit, then don’t chase me!  ..._ and Elisa was far too busy darting away from him to notice how restrained that response was, even for the severity of her bite. Her spirits rose as a gust of fresh hair assured her she was almost at the cave entrance.

But the mouth of the cave was as far as luck took her.

Elisa choked on a yelp as she smashed into what felt like a rounded rock of some big guy’s stomach. _Must have got past me while big guy slowed me down,_ she thought a split-second later as she was knocked back, right into the big male’s full-on charge. Then she was violently squished between the two of them for an instant, the impact squeezing the air out of her lungs.

“Ooofffph,” Elisa groaned aloud, not that she heard herself. There was a wrenching feeling and then an intense and intimate pain below, and down she went, fully at the bottom of a massive pile of thrashing arms and wings and tails. It was the end of her first real attempt to escape.

Panic was all unpacked and ready to rumble by the time she was fished out of the pile, but this time the large male seemed ready for her. He gripped her with one hand around her neck and the other held her wrists again. His tail was lashing wildly as he dragged her back away from the source of the fresh air.

She could feel him rumbling against her back where she was held tight to his chest. It could only mean he was growling furiously. Saying something? Threatening her? There was no way to tell and she gritted her teeth. He was angry. That much was obvious, but she was feeling every bit as furious, and even more frightened for what was coming next. She fully expected some sort of brutal punishment, especially after a serious fight like this. She knew she’d scratched and bit the hell out of him, could still taste his blood in her mouth, even as her own dripped down her legs for her re-opened wound. 

It was a terrifying moment.

The whole situation was insane, but through it all she hadn’t spoken a word. She knew better than to make this nightmare even worse. Then he stopped, and she could tell by the way he set his legs that they’d arrived at wherever he’d been heading to. Whatever was going to happen, it was going down right here. Her tail writhed within the confines of his coiling length, even as she felt him re-adjust his grip so as to free one of his hands.

 _He’s going to hurt me bad,_ she thought and fought even harder. _Won’t make it easy! Won’t go down without a_ —

Then she startled when he set her back down on her feet, instead of hurting her. He was cautious though, handling her like one would an enraged feline — very carefully! — and didn’t fully release her.

_What are you going to do?_

The answer came a moment later when he used his free hand to check over her injuries, of which she had many. Elisa was surprised enough that she stopped fighting as his hand roamed over her. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his tail twitched against hers when he checked the worst of her injuries, and then she felt him trace the blood trail down her thigh with the tip of his talon. He seemed to hesitate when he realized where she was bleeding from.

Then Elisa stiffened in shock when he actually touched her there. His fingers were gentle and questing and then he … parted her … and that was a complete shock. Not to mention painful, and she squeaked before she could stop herself and promptly bit him again. This time he fully dropped her, and she felt him stumble back.

_Don’t you touch me there!_

Hissing at him, Elisa shrank back against the cave wall. She was feeling threatened in the worst possible way and remained facing the last place she’d known him to be, though he didn’t come after her again.

None of them did, and she found that unusual.

 _It took a while before the river clan got real nasty too,_ she remembered, and then settled to the back of the cave. _This doesn’t mean anything_. _Probably too busy patching up all their bites to bother with me yet_ and she felt some satisfaction for that. At least they knew she wasn’t going to meekly accept whatever sadism they were planning for her. She wasn’t anyone’s victim and intended to fight them every step of the way, if she could.

Miserable and hurting, Elisa finally settled down and then wiped at herself. She winced for the smell of her blood, and was soon clawing at the wall with frustration. Her tail lashed back and forth for yet another grim reminder in a night filled with them. The blade had broken off inside her on the last night of her captivity with the river clan, during the worst of their assaults. She’d thought death was certain and had screamed her lungs out. Her cries had saved her, though not in any way she could have expected, and she shivered for that dreadful memory.

 _Yet another reason to get the hell out of this cave_ , Elisa thought, as being trapped in here could mean an end every bit as hideous as whatever the mountain clan was planning

Hunching down, Elisa was just about to have another go at escaping when the familiar itch of dawn and the advent of stone sleep stole across her body. Her flesh tightened and her mind relaxed into a healing sleep, and that was the end of her first harrowing night with the mountain clan.

 

*******

 

Elisa was thirsty.

It was early in the second evening, and so far she’d made no progress towards freeing herself. The next fight had started the moment she’d woken from her stone sleep, but she had taken too long to orient herself before making a run for it, and they’d been ready for her.

They had wrestled her right back to the deepest part of their cave, and then let her be.

It had been the first of several attempts to flee towards the cave opening, all to no avail. Each time she’d met with a wall of resistance, and now her mouth felt dreadfully dry and a headache was pounding behind her useless eyes. Even worse, hands kept coming at her from the dark. Though they hadn’t actually hurt her, they were insistent, and she startled at every touch.

Elisa’s dear friend panic was not being particularly helpful tonight, either. He kept reminding her of all the different ways these strangers could harm her, ticking out the possibilities on curving fingers. The resulting fear saw her pacing and fretting along the wall at the back of the cave.

She could tell her captors were just out of reach but hovering, and she sniffed the air, trying to figure out how many of them were between her and freedom. She hoped there was still time before things got ugly again. It had taken the river clan some time to build up to the level of cruelty that endangered her life, and she wasn’t going to give these people that chance.

 _This doesn’t make sense,_ Elisa thought as she paced. _What’s the point of keeping me under lock and key against my will? What are they getting out of this?_ _Sane, normal people would have set me free by now,_ and of that she was certain. At this point it had to be obvious she wasn’t worth the trouble to keep captive, and to her frazzled mind, there seemed only one reasonable answer to that question.

She knew Occam’s razor was not in her favor tonight.

Elisa was working herself towards another frenzied escape attempt when several hands came at her again, penetrating the darkness that was the whole of her existence. She leapt away like she would a grasping zombie, even going to far as to climb the walls to escape. It was instinct now to flee from anything reaching for her, as the only time hands ever touched her was to harm her.

She did notice how subdued they were, overall. She’d been putting up a hell of a fight, but no one struck at her or otherwise outright attacked her, and that was surprising. The detective in her puzzled over it, and there was one persistent little thought, a possibility that kept presenting itself in her mind. She’d been too frightened to link any of her experiences with the Manhattan clan to this new clan, but the similarities were there and the detective in her absolutely noticed them.

Specifically, the kite-shaped one and their adeptness in the air gave her pause. But for her experiences in the last few hours, now she was certain these were strangers.

 _Goliath would never treat me like this,_ Elisa thought, and her tail twisted around her ankle for the sudden surge of longing that filled her at the thought of him. _The others wouldn’t chase me down or drag me around. They wouldn’t trap me like this,_ and so she repelled the mountain clan at every turn.

Elisa wanted either Goliath or her family, and baring that, she needed the river. Unfortunately all her struggling had only made her hungry and thirsty. Once again it seemed there was no food or water on offer … though to be fair, it wasn’t like she’d held still long enough to be offered anything.

It didn’t matter.

 _Getting out of here sooner rather than later,_ and Elisa used every trick she’d learned from her time with the river clan. Staying down on all fours like normal, she paced back and forth like a caged panther. Her tail lashed behind her, and she used it to help map out the back of the cave.

But she was so thirsty.

There was a hint of water nearby, and she anxiously followed that scent. This was one of the worst things about her previous captivity, the terrible risk she took every time she tried to eat or drink. The river clan had refused to let her eat any of their food, and near the end of her captivity, would torment her for trying to drink from any of their stores of water.

Those last few nights, their cruelty had been endless.

And so her stomach was twisting into knots when she found the source of the water-scent. No one had tried to stop her cautious exploring yet, and so she dipped her head towards the water. It smelled bad, but that was neither here nor there. If she wanted to stay strong, she needed something to drink.

 _Whump whump whump,_ came the vibrations of someone heavy approaching in a hurry. She wasn’t surprised in the slightest when a large hand pushed her away from the bucket. She didn’t fight, and just skittered back and away from that obstructive hand.

 _Back to this again,_ Elisa thought grimly and went back to her pacing, wondering if she resembled the caged animal she felt like. She licked her dry lips and considered making another break for it. _Might have to wait for the next evening when they are distracted. No point in running for it while they are expecting me to,_ she thought.

It was a bitter pill to swallow when all she wanted was her freedom.

She went through her laundry list of survival tips as a mental distraction. _Just try to stay away from them until then_ … and she had just finished that thought when once again, fingers brushed against her. The feel of them startled her into leaping back and she smacked the hand away. She immediately felt a splash of water around her feet and winced.

This was depressingly normal, too.

 _That didn’t take long,_ Elisa thought with a grimace.

The river clan used to tease her this way, splashing water on her sometimes when she’d asked for a drink. Maybe watching her lick the drops off the ground had amused them. It was a game they’d played until she’d finally stopped asking. Their cruelty had been wretchedly petty, the imaginative nastiness of a gang of aggressive young males with no supervision or threat of consequence.

Elisa was angry to be suffering all of this again, but she kept her silence. _Don’t give them anything they might enjoy. Stay calm and focused, don’t give them any reason to attack you_ … but things already seemed to be escalating and she began to sink into a survivor’s state of mind again. She pushed higher thoughts away and focused instead on surviving moment to moment.

First and foremost of her critical needs was water, and she knew it could be some time before she might have another chance to drink. And so she crept forward and her questing fingers found a hollow in the stone floor where the water had puddled a little. It was just enough for a decent drink, and though it meant drinking off the floor, she swallowed her pride. It helped that she couldn’t hear the jeers she was certain were coming from her audience.

 _Going to be okay…_ and Elisa tried to comfort herself as best she could while mouthing at the precious moisture. _Just a matter of time until I’m back on the river and safe. I already escaped once and can do it again … so do what you have to and survive._

There was a sudden gust of air, and once again she was pushed back and away. But this time the hands lingered, holding on to her. They were small, but then the larger hands of the big male landed on her too. She was instantly outraged by their seeming cruelty and slapped them both away with her tail.

“You wouldn’t do this to a _dog!”_ she screamed at them, accidentally breaking her silence, and she was surprised when she felt them back off. She took instant advantage and now that she knew exactly where the big male was, she exploded towards the cave mouth once again. But she barely made three bounds before she crashed into someone, and was sent rolling back by her own momentum.

The wound between her legs had only barely sealed over during her stone sleep, and for the violent smack, tore right back open. The mountain clan tried to grab at her again, but she spared them the trouble and backed off, stumbling back to the wall and climbing up it with her talons.

She wedged herself into the corner where the wall met the ceiling and stayed there for a time. Her tail curled around her midsection and she angled herself so that her bared fangs were the first thing any of them would encounter if they chose to attack her. She could feel her blood trickling down her chest.

It dripped down her neck and dropped to the floor in thick droplets.

Elisa licked her lips and swallowed around the lump in her throat. Her mouth was dry like a sandy desert and all she could think about was the sweet taste of the rushing river. She started to feel desperate, and so she broke her silence again, even though she really did know better.

“Listen to me,” Elisa demanded, trying to sound as intimidating as possible, “this has gone on long enough. I’m not happy, you _can’t_ be happy, so just – just let me go!”

Fingers brushed her cheek then, there and gone, even before she skittered back. The suggestiveness — however gentle — of that touch alarmed her. She growled in warning, then grew worried when she felt gusts of air from several bodies moving nearby. There was a _woooosh_ like a blanket being laid over the ground, and a smell of bear fur and … maybe deer? … and then a sharper scent of pine needles.

 _They are up to something,_ she realized ... and then a moment later they pounced.

 


	9. Impasse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Non-con touches and forced medical care.

# 

_Clunk!_

Goliath’s lashing tail struck an overturned kettle, though his determined expression never changed. His rebellious tail was the only indication of how furious he really was.

He was keeping his anger under wraps for the good of the clan, but Elisa had returned to them an absolute wreck. It was clear someone had hurt her badly, and he ached to redress that wrong. The problem was, he had no enemies within reach, and Elisa herself was hindering all attempts to help her.

The nightmare had begun the day before when he’d been helping Hudson and the rookery brothers capture salmon to dry for the winter. It was an enjoyable task, filled with the promise of full bellies through the harsh winter in their new mountain home. The fishy unfortunates had been piling up when he’d whirled for Angela’s horrified cry.

Goliath had stared in open-mouthed shock as a skinny, naked female glided past him on the river bank. There was a _whoosh_ of air as a lavender blur rushed overhead — Angela was in hot pursuit of the other female — and then he tore after them both when he finally recognized his precious Elisa.

It had been one hell of a chase, and several times Elisa had nearly slipped away.

Especially after the wind around the adjacent stream died down, dumping the clan onto the ground, leaving only the desperately thin Elisa airborne. It was Goliath who’d chased her down, straining himself to the utmost while racing after her on all fours. It was he who had ravaged the concealing undergrowth until a huffing bear revealed her, trembling beneath the heavy branches of a pine tree.

Goliath’s summoning roar had brought the others, and after running her down, he’d carried Elisa back to the safety of their home. He’d sighed in relief after carrying her across the threshold, but alas, it seemed she was wholly unaware of her rescue.

Even worse, Demona’s sensory deprivation spell was as strong as ever, and none in the clan had the expertise needed to remove it. Xanatos would have to be contacted so they might request the aid of Puck, but their old nemesis was several states over, still huddled in their bunker while waiting out the shambling dead.

Meanwhile, Goliath had a frantic female on his hands.

It wasn’t long before he realized the extent of Elisa’s malaise, but he was unsure what to do. For her lack of senses, he had to use his hands to try and communicate in any meaningful way, yet her rejection of touch was making it impossible. He remembered how much trouble Xanatos and his majordomo had with cornering and calming Fox — the woman was a thousand times more dangerous as a gargoyle — and knew he faced the same dilemma.

Goliath frowned as he looked down over his deep bite wound, though he stoically ignored the sting. He, along with Hudson, was old enough and wise enough not to take offense at Elisa’s panicked attempts to defend herself. Though he refused to take any of this personally, he couldn’t speak for the entire clan.

Everyone was taking this horrifying turn of events differently.

Broadway, for one.

“She’s so skinny,” he said while twisting a length of cloth in his hands for anxiety. He’d already tried to offer her some food, only to be rebuffed when he touched her arm to guide her to it. After chewing his finger talons down to nubs, he'd then eaten the remainder of the stew without thinking, which only added to his upset.

Seeing how upset he was, Angela had suggested he make Elisa something to wear — after looking askance at the clan’s lingering eyes — and he was busying himself with that task. Staying back, he’d thrown himself into his work, only to make the mistake of trying to wrap a piece of the material around Elisa’s waist to check the length.

It was an entirely innocent gesture, but she’d given him a lovely tail-slap to the face for it. It was obvious Elisa had thought she was being restrained and panicked for it, but Broadway was the last person on the planet to ever consider hurting another … at least not without serious provocation. He was the gentlest among them and more sensitive than most. As such, his feelings were still very tender.

“Maybe we should respect her wishes and let her go,” Brooklyn said, though his words lost strength near the end of the suggestion. He seemed to want to take them back almost instantly, for Elisa was in such dreadful shape that letting her leave would be tantamount to signing her death warrant.

“Ach, lad,” Hudson said over his shoulder. “Dinna take this so personal. You’ll need a thicker skin then that, especially as second in command.”

“I forbid it,” Goliath growled, and that was that.

Not long after and dawn arrived. It found them still without a resolution, and the entire clan surrendered to the stone sleep with worried frowns etched on their faces.

 

*******

 

The next night was just as wretched.

Elisa had made random breaks for freedom since sundown, all to no avail. Standing guard, Goliath and the rest of the clan blocked her every escape attempt, even as she panicked at every turn. She was moving so swiftly that she couldn’t be thinking over her actions. Through it all she hadn’t spoken so much as a word, and now she was pacing the length of the cave wall as they watched. While everyone agreed she needed help, there was strong disagreement over what form that help should take.

“We should bind her, Goliath,” Lexington said while rubbing at his sore cheek. It was still flushed from where Elisa had smacked him with her tail. He _had_ been trying to grab her tail to impede her escape, but still. Hudson made a rumbly noise in the back of his throat while Brooklyn nodded agreement at Lex.

“We’ve already had this conversation,” Goliath said sharply. “I am _not_ chaining her down.” As he spoke, the length of dog chain around Elsa’s ankle dragged at the floor. She was tugging at it, winding it up and re-wrapping the miserable thing around her ankle. Her skin was red and blistered under the constraining metal, and the clatter of the chain further darkened his expression. It was a source of added frustration for Goliath, as she’d struck him away every time he’d tried to examine it.

“We can’t keep her locked up like this,” Broadway said, wringing his hands.

Goliath glanced over at Broadway, and his eyes softened. He could tell that Broadway was the most upset of all the clan. It seemed he still felt guilty for using his stomach to bounce Elisa away from the cave opening the night before. She’d had a little trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth after, and now Broadway’s tail was twisting itself into knots.

“Well, we can’t just let her go, either,” Lexington retorted. “She’ll die!”

Brooklyn dropped his head, trying not to look at anything but her face, with varying degrees of success. “She looks horrible. I don’t know how she survived on her own for this long.”

“Obviously she didn’t,” Lexington said, tilting his head at the chain around her ankle in emphasis. His eyes flashed a harsh white, the bright glow making the shadows on the wall dance.

In the meantime, Angela was hard at work making everything just a little bit worse. Her heart was in the right place, but she kept trying to touch Elisa to try and comfort her … though her efforts were having the exact opposite effect. Several of the clan had already pointed out the obvious to her, but she refused to heed their advice.

“Angela, lass, come away from there,” Hudson ordered again, but she didn’t listen. She had a double dose of stubbornness, gifted to her from both her parents, and it was in full display tonight. And sure enough, Elisa struck her yet again while leaping in the opposite direction, all but climbing the walls to try and get away.

Angela fell away with a yelp of pain and the whole clan bristled for the violence. “I hate this!” Broadway cried, hurrying over to check on his lady love, but hesitated when she waved him back.

Lexington just snorted. “I told her to stop touching Elisa. She will never calm down if everyone keeps grabbing at her while she’s scared of hands,” and his shoulders dropped as he added, “though apparently for good reason.”

“Angela didn’t do anything wrong!” Broadway said, feeling like he needed to defend Angela, though no one was casting blame with any fervor. He shifted from foot to foot and then took another step forward. At the same time, Goliath’s hands balled into fists on his hips, and he was just about to speak when Angela winced and beat him to it.

“I know, father,” Angela said with wilting wings. “She’s my friend and I’m not upset. This is _Demona’s_ fault,” and her eyes shone bright red for a moment, and then she cast her eyes downward. “I will stay back.”

“She’s just frightened,” Goliath reminded the rest, though it was unnecessary. Mumbled agreements were already echoing around the cavernous room, to the tune of Elisa’s pacing, clattering talons.

It was painfully obvious why Elisa was so fearful. Her bruises were extensive, with various cuts and slow-healing bite wounds here and there. Moreover, she had a particularly odd injury across her back and neck. It looked like a mess of healing bee stings, with hundreds of angry little red prick marks offset by discolored skin. But it was the blood streaks between her legs and the cuffs and chain around her ankle that told the majority of the tale.

Furiously upset for the implications, Goliath edged a little closer towards her and hovered protectively. Meanwhile, Elisa was licking her lips. They looked cracked and dry, and he ground his fangs.

At Hudson’s feet, Bronx whined, and then everyone tensed when Elisa left the back of the cave wall and began creeping forward. The entirety of the Manhattan clan watched her slink across the ground.

“She must be thirsty,” Brooklyn said as he watched Elisa from his perch on a pile of animal furs. His keen eyes tracked her wary movements, while Lexington crept a little closer to her.

“How are we going to give her food and water if she can’t see, can’t hear, and keeps slapping us away every time we try to help her?” and Lexington’s voice was filled with a frustration shared by the entire clan.

“He has a point,” Hudson said, and as his words still held great weight within the clan, they effectively silenced Goliath’s otherwise harsh retort. Then he knelt down to one knee and considered the situation, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “She’s bleeding again, Goliath. Her wound shouldn’t reopen after the stone sleep, unless something is seriously wrong.”

“I know,” Goliath said, taking another step forward and then stopping himself. He was having trouble keeping a respectful distance as the hours passed. “I tried to check her wound, but she refused me.”

“Mmn,” Hudson caught his look and rumbled. Then he rested his arm on his bent knee and added, “Nonetheless, we will need to tend her.”

Brooklyn cringed at the thought. “She’s going to _freak_.”

There was a chain clatter, and everyone tensed when Elisa took in a deep breath and began to creep forward again. Her head dropped and her wings spread and tapped along the ground all around her. Moving like a wild thing, she remained wary and anxious and was clearly following a scent trail of some kind. Then she approached a nearby wash bucket, half-filled with soapy water and soaking cloth rags. It had been discarded for the morning’s excitement, and now she made as if to drink from it.

Goliath was already lunging forward to stop her. Dropping down to all fours, he gently pushed her away from the filthy water. He was about to turn and grab a cup of fresh water for her instead, but the kind-hearted Angela was already one step ahead of him.

“Elisa, don’t!” Angela cried while snatching up a cup and splashing water into it. “You can’t drink that! You’ll get sick!” 

The cup was chipped and had a faded ‘I <3 New York’ across the front. It was one of the few things they had taken with them when they’d fled the city. It sloshed for her haste as Angela knelt down and touched Elisa’s shoulder.

“Here, have some—”

But Angela only received a prompt tail-whack for her efforts, and the cup went spilling over the ground. It shattered into pieces as Elisa skittered away, oblivious for the reality of her situation. Then her sightless eyes dropped downward towards the little splashes of water across her toes, and she looked crestfallen and afraid.

“This isn’t _helping_ ,” Brooklyn snapped, flaring his wings. He took a step forward in case Elisa made a break for it, but she didn’t. She only shrank back against the wall.

Brooklyn settled back, grinding his beak in frustration, and then watched with widening eyes as Elisa crept forward again and mournfully began mouthing at the spilled water. The look on her face made it clear she believed they were being purposefully cruel and he growled and his eyes flashed with hurt.

“We are trying to _help_ you,” Brooklyn said. 

With a low “no, no, no,” Goliath pushed Elisa back from the dirty, spilled water and motioned at Angela to fill another cup. He just started to turn around to take the new cup from Angela when Elisa tail-slapped him yet again and leapt back.

“You wouldn’t do this to a _dog!”_  Elisa screamed at them, her voice hoarse from disuse. They could tell she was unable to hear herself speak as the inflection sounded a little off. It was the sound of someone speaking words from memory only, and it was another reminder how badly she needed help.

In the next instant Elisa was charging forward, only to crash into Brooklyn, and they both went down in a tumble. Elisa yelped and then staggered back and away. She pressed back against the wall of the cave, and was bleeding again. Her chest was heaving as she wedged herself into the space between the wall and the ceiling.

Blood was dripping freely from her wound, and Elisa spoke again, addressing them from her perch near the ceiling. “Listen to me. This has gone on long enough. I’m not happy, you _can’t_ be happy, so just – just let me go!”

“I refuse,” Goliath replied firmly. “We are your family, and we will not abandon you.” Forgetting himself, he reached out and stroked her cheek, though the touch made her cringe. He didn’t like the way she shrank back from him. Such a timid reaction was so unlike her, and he was beginning to reconsider Lexington’s suggestion, though his heart recoiled for the thought.

“I’m going outside,” Brooklyn announced to no one in particular and turned away.

Goliath caught sight of his clan’s faces while looking over his shoulder in askance at Brooklyn. He grimaced when he realized just how distressed the younger members of the clan were. None of them had dealt with a situation as dreadful as this, and he knew he would need to take control and soon.

Hudson shot Goliath a look that said much the same.

“Brooklyn,” Goliath called, and relaxed a little when his Second stopped and turned to listen. “When you return, gather what you need for the journey to Xanatos’ bunker. We will need the aid of Puck to right this wrong, and I want you and your brothers to be ready to leave in the morning.”

Brooklyn opened his mouth in surprise, and then settled. Finally, something sensible he could do to help! The trip was going to take a week at minimum, and he was already working out what he would need and which route would be best to take. He straightened and determination entered his eyes. “I won’t let you down.”

“Me neither,” Broadway chimed in, and Lexington slapped his tail against the ground in agreement.

“We know you won’t, lads.” Hudson said as Goliath’s eyes gleamed back at his old mentor, and Hudson rumbled agreement for the decision. Best to get the youngsters out from underfoot until things calmed down…

“The rest of you go outside with Brooklyn and give us some air,” Hudson added while reaching for a blanket made of deer fur. “We need to tend Elisa’s injuries, and she’s not likely to want an audience.”

“I want to help,” Angela insisted. Her chin tilted downward and she held her ground, even as the others followed Brooklyn out of the cave. She was accustomed to being the darling of the clan, but her soft demeanor secreted a spine of steel, so much like her mother. There was no dissuading her when she was like this, and everyone knew it.

“Steep some pine needle tea,” Hudson suggested, “and perhaps we will have Bronx sit on Elisa to make sure she drinks it.” It was the mildest of jokes, but it earned him a few soft chuckles while across the cave, Bronx whined for the sound of his name. Bronx had no idea what was wrong, and was pacing back and forth, much like Elisa was.

“It’s okay, Bronx,” called Lexington, who then whistled for him. “You can come with us and get some fresh air.” His back end wriggling, Bronx charged out after the others as Angela stoked the little cooking fire and put on a kettle.

“Goliath, grab that bearskin there, and lay it out over the ground,” Hudson ordered while fetching the clan’s modest medical kit. “I’m no healer, but I have some skill. She won’t like any of this, and I want you to hold her still while I work.”

Hudson’s voice was stern and he slipped back into a commanding tone. There was a clatter as he overturned the kit, and his face pinched in concentration. Distracted, he issued further suggestions that were actually orders while rummaging through the kit for supplies. He had been clan leader not so long ago and sometimes he forgot himself … not that Goliath took offense.

“Of course,” Goliath said.

“What about the ether in the medical kit?” Angela suggested as she began preparing the pine needles for steeping. The scent of pine was filling the back of the cave as she used her claws to slice the needles into little pieces, added them in little handfuls to the boiling water.

“It … may be a good idea,” Hudson agreed, eyeing the shaking female in the corner. Elisa was looking … manic. The blood gathering on the floor was beginning to resemble a puddle, and he shook his head.

Meanwhile Goliath was edging ever closer, well within the danger zone of those sharp fangs and even sharper claws. Resigning himself for more bites, he set his feet and glanced over his shoulder, “Let me know when you are ready, old friend.”

“I’m ready. Bring her down,” and Hudson tensed as Goliath pounced.

Goliath wrestled Elisa onto her back, using his hands and wings and tail to keep her down. She fought hard, but she was no match for him. With a grunt for yet another landed bite, he took an ether-soaked rag from a solemn Hudson and clamped it over her mouth. She must have recognized the smell, because she screamed bloody murder.

Murmuring apologies, Goliath closed his eyes as he held her tightly against him, muscles tense while he countered her struggles. His tail squeezed hers, and he could feel her heartbeat fluttering madly. Then she fell limp, and he laid her out over the ground. Having used ether for medicinal reasons previously, they knew she wouldn’t be down for long, and Hudson went to work with urgency.

Hudson threaded a needle with a strand of Elisa’s own hair, and then gently reached in to feel out the wound. He was intending to suture the wound closed, but hissed when his fingers encountered something razor sharp instead.

“What is it?” Goliath rumbled, concerned.

“Something sharp inside. She’s worse off than I thought,” Hudson growled, but didn’t elaborate. His tail flicked as he looked towards the brightening cave entrance and judged how long they had until dawn. Deciding they were near enough to the healing sun, he returned to task and began to work the wretched thing free.

It came out only reluctantly, heralded by a massive gush of blood, and it was well that Hudson had timed the extraction as he did. For the broken blade was a full six inches long, the business end of a hunting knife complete with a serrated edge. The base of it was flat and still had a bit of soaking leather from where the handle had broken off. The smell of the leather was … not good.

Goliath made a sound low in his throat.

With a matching rumble, Hudson dropped the broken-off blade onto the floor. He shook his head as he realized that none of his medical supplies would be of use for an internal wound of this magnitude. Sliding his fingers back inside, he made due and pressed down on the gushing wound to hinder the blood loss.

“That looks like a … _knife_ ,” Angela hissed with wide eyes.

Hudson and Goliath traded veiled looks as Angela reached out and picked it up, then yelped for the sharp edge and dropped it. Angela watched as a drop of her blood welled on the tip of her finger, and swallowed noisily. Definitely a knife, and she sat back and her tail twisted and she whispered, “how can that be?”

It was a reminder just how sheltered Angela had been while growing up on the magical island of Avalon. Talk of such cruelties would never have been uttered in front of the hatchlings by Princess Catherine or the Magus, and so Angela’s outlook on life still held a certain naiveté. The elder males in her life knew better — the world could be _such_ a dreadful place at times — and now they regretted not sending her out with the others.

“I don’t know,” Goliath said carefully as Angela watched him, waiting for him to say something that would sooth the ache in her heart. “What I _do_ know is that as soon as Elisa can name her tormentors … I will see to them personally.”

“Elisa will be alright,” Hudson added, offering something more akin to comfort then Goliath was capable of at the moment. “The sun will heal this wound, and a few nights of peace and quiet will calm her.”

With that, Hudson gently removed his hand, and made a satisfied noise as the bleeding had calmed. It was nearly dawn now, and he was certain she would make it.

“Keep her still. Dawn is coming, and she can heal now that she is free of the vile thing,” Hudson said while climbing to his feet. He stepped out to wash his hands while Goliath kept watch.

Then Elisa jerked a little, and Goliath’s grip on her thigh tightened as a soft noise escaped her mouth and her tail twitched. Squeezing his tail around hers, he nodded at Angela and together they lifted and nestled Elisa back onto the bearskin rug. They stretched her out over the furs and Goliath hovered protectively after wrapping her warmly in them.

It wasn’t long before Elisa began to resurface from her forced nap. She was struggling to wake, whining low in her throat for pain and confusion. She was shaking, and struggled to roll over onto her stomach, and after a moment, Goliath helped her turn over. But lying helpless on the ground was the worst idea imaginable, and now that she was on her stomach, she was trying to get her feet under her. Her wings twitched as even half-conscious, she struggled to get up.

Instinct was screaming at her to get back into the air, _now_ , and panic was adding to the whirling bedlam that was her mindscape as she surged towards full consciousness. But the warm hands on her back and shoulders were large and firm and unyielding, and she was forced to lay quiet beneath them.

There was a clatter at the mouth of the cave as the younger members of the clan returned, hauling more fish into the cave to be dried and salted for the winter. Their chatter sounded far more cheerful, and with one last look at the blood drying on the blade on the floor, Angela hurried away to greet Broadway.

Brooklyn and Lexington grinned as Angela slammed into Broadway, hugging him fiercely. Their smiles faltered when he dropped his armful of salmon and hugged her back, asking, “Did Elisa slap you again?” The question was wreathed in the saddest of tones, to which Angela whispered “no” and then burst into tears.

“What’s going on?” Brooklyn asked, heading towards the darker recesses of the cave. He stopped when an unhappy rumble sounded from the deep darkness as Goliath warned him off.

“Stay there,” Goliath ordered. He was still holding Elisa while coaxing little mouthfuls of tea down her throat. “We are still tending to Elisa’s injuries. They are … worse than we thought.”

“What does that mean?” Brooklyn demanded. He dropped to all fours and threatened to come back there anyway. He wasn’t happy with all the biting and slapping, but Elisa was still his friend. He took another few steps forward and his nose wrinkled for the smell of blood. But when Goliath snapped his wings in warning, Brooklyn wisely reconsidered disobeying his leader.

“I’m going to pack some things for the trip,” Brooklyn muttered instead, and did just that.

It wasn’t long after when Hudson returned from washing his hands in the river. “It’s time,” Hudson called to Goliath. “It is up to the stone sleep to heal her now.” He turned and joined the others at the mouth of the cave, patting Bronx on his head.

But Goliath lingered, watching as Elisa’s mind seemed to fully return to her. “Lie still and try to rest,” he murmured down at her tense face, though he knew she couldn’t hear him. “Dawn is coming, and the sun will heal you.”

Goliath rumbled his frustration again when she refused to stay still. He saw her grit her fangs for pain while squirming into a more upright position. Did she realize they had removed the blade? There was no way to know, but he suspected not. There was no understanding within the horrified look on her face and the way her tail curled protectively around herself.

He watched as she managed to get her trembling feet braced beneath her, though she was still too weak to lift herself. He pushed away his intense desire to cover her body with his own and hold her quiet. His protective instincts were writhing within him, even as she risked aggravated her injuries by moving. But he still felt he should respect her wishes, even though she was only hurting herself with her struggling.

Gentlemen respected ladies!

“Elisa, please,” Goliath pleaded, and for once it seemed she listened. Or more likely, she sensed the breaking dawn just as he did. He watched as she sucked in a deep breath.

“Not without a fight you monsters,” Goliath heard her whisper … just as the sun crested the horizon.

 

 


	10. Shadow River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Non-con touches.

 

The transformation from stone to flesh was always surreal.

From inanimate to animate, awareness was instantaneous as Elisa’s stone skin splintered and cracked. In the split-second it took her to remember herself — and the horrors of the previous night — she was already moving, exploding forward in great bounds. Gasping as she bolted, the stale cave air and the smell of old leather and the misty damp of the new evening filled her lungs.

_Run!_

She was already on all fours from the previous night, and her tail lashed behind her and various bits and possessions scattered right and left and the fur blanket she’d been kneeling on was left in the dust. Her talons gripped the cold stone floor and hauled and released, propelling her towards freedom.

So accustomed was she to fleeing the very instant she became aware that she was already half-way to the cave entrance before her captors even realized what was happening ... and realize what was happening, they did.

She felt showers of stone skin fragments bounce off her skin as the mountain clan awoke all around her, their leisurely stretches in direct contrast to her frantic flight. As she darted past one of them, she felt surprised fingers graze one of her outstretched wings. Then she crashed through a smothered fire pit and a puff of smoky ash filled her nose. Her right hand struck some sort of wire frame and a still-full tea kettle went rolling, spilling its cold contents in gushes and adding a touch of stale pine needles to the air.

Another massive bound and Elisa sucked in another great breath and kept going, her tail curling fearfully beneath her. She’d tried this panicked rush before and was thwarted, but this time was different. This time she had a head start and the dog chain was wound tight around her ankle and out of the way.

This time she had some sense of her surroundings.

 _I’m going to make it_ , she realized, and then felt the thumping of pursuit, right behind her. _Not tonight you monsters_ and she bared her fangs in triumph as she exploded across the threshold between languid cave air and the spritely currents of the greater world outside. She exulted in the feel of cool, crisp wind in her face, and the air currents felt good and strong tonight.

_Perfect!_

Though Elisa was a little clumsy on the ground, that disadvantage ended the instant her wings met the glorious night winds. Leaping off what felt like a cliff face, she was instantly aloft, though not alone. She felt a massive hand brush over the small of her back, trying to stop her, but encountering nothing with which to clasp.

Once again, her lack of clothing saved her. If she’d been wearing anything, he’d have had her right there. _Get bent you great big jerk,_ and she snarled soundlessly over her shoulder, though she kept her tail tucked ... least he catch her by it. But the winds were good and strong and carried her away with great speed. When she felt no further touches, she focused all of her attention on her wings and gliding as swiftly as possible.

There was no sign of pursuit, but she knew that was deceptive. She wouldn’t have any warning until they were right on top of her, especially with the wind in her face.

_Whoosh!_

She startled when she crossed the boundary of a particularly swift gust, only to be sucked upward by a massive updraft. It was both help and hindrance how light she was, as the wind tossed her about easily. The air higher in the sky was robust, and she wasn’t used to the turbulence. She had never flown this high before, and the mountain updrafts were pulling her ever higher.

 _I should stay where I am used to flying,_ she thought, and her hands clenched and unclenched as she stretched her wings to their utmost. She was suddenly frightened by the sense of crossing vast, open spaces with no idea where she was in any spatial sense. _They are probably more used to open air flying then I am._

All seemed peaceful up here, but she knew in her heart her captors were still chasing her, they had to be, but she was far enough ahead of them she couldn’t sense any odd air currents. _The way they were acting, they are maybe only a few meters behind me. They wouldn’t just let me go like this …_ and she knew any mistake in judgment would mean losing her freedom.

Decision made, Elisa folded her wings like a falcon and dropped like a stone to gain momentum. She felt the cool night wind blasting over her skin, bringing with it scents of pine and moisture. Plummeting like this was a dangerous move, as she had no way to know where the tree line was. No fool, she lost her nerve rather quickly — who knew how high up she was now — and leveled out. The wind rushed past and whipped her hair into a frenzy as she soared.

The air did seem calmer, the closer to ground she was. She began to angle slightly downward, dropping her tail as a fifth limb. Ever useful, it wasn’t long before her tail bushed the tips of the tallest trees, and she grinned when she realized she was just above the tree line. It bolstered her confidence to have some idea where she was, instead of merely trusting her luck in a featureless void of dark.

_Much better..._

_Now I need to get back to the river,_ she thought, ever alert for any tale-tell signs of river air currents. So far there was nothing, only strong air flows, propelling her along. Soon she was flying straight ahead, using every trick she knew to gain speed, her tail occasionally glancing off the soft tips of pine trees.

Still there was no sign of pursuit, at least not within the limited range of her perceptions. The minutes passed and she calmed enough to think, and she took careful stock of herself. She was hungry now, having gone two days without food, but it was still manageable. She could last several more days yet before becoming dangerously weak. _Will likely have to,_ she thought, remembering how intense the large male’s attention had been. _He’s not going to just let me go._

Worse was the constant sense of bouncing between hot and cold, and a certain aching all throughout her body. She knew that feeling and wrapped her arms around herself, recognizing the herald of coming fever. _Probably from the attack and whatever they did to me. There couldn’t be a worse time to get sick._

She could still feel pain between her legs, but it was vastly reduced. This always happened after the stone sleep, the flesh around the metal sliver healing and then slowly cutting her back open over the course of the night if she wasn’t careful to mind her movements.  She wasn’t sure what had happened, but she keenly remembered being drugged, and that terrified her.

_What did they do to me?_

She had recognized the scent of ether, and all the horrible stories that went along with its illicit use, and she knew she would never know for sure. She had her suspicions, and the not knowing was all the more upsetting to her. She knew better than to relax, and strained herself to the utmost.

 _Just deal with it,_ she told herself firmly. _Going to make it through this, so keep moving, keep flying, even if for days ... they will give up eventually ... wait!_

_There!_

She’d felt a side gust, moister then the air current she was currently riding. There was a scent of fresh water, of mud and sand and moss, and she diverted to the side, whirling around to follow that current instead. She swooped down, and sure enough, her tail splashed through swift-churning water and she felt a misty spray.

Elisa grinned in delight and rose up again.

 _Back on the river,_ she thought in triumph. The misty splash of sweet, fresh water was invigorating against her skin, but her excitement was tempered with nervousness as she’d lost a fair bit of speed while taking the turn.

_Don’t let up, don’t relax …_

She’d just skipped to a swifter-moving air current mid-river when a massive whoosh of air above her warned of the big male’s presence. None of her other captors could move so much air all at once; it had to be him. She ducked to the side as his fingers slid over her skin, and she only barely yanked her wrist away in time.

“I said let me go!” Elisa screamed in his general direction, though of course all was silence. She swooped down and around him, her tail splashing into the river almost immediately. With a soft hiss, she lifted back upwards, gliding swiftly up the river. This was a lithe, fast-moving section of whitewater, and it wasn’t hard to gain speed, though she felt the occasional thrash of leaves. Moving so fast was dangerous, but there was no other option, as slowing down would ensure her capture.

The next few minutes were distressing as the determined male harried her over and over, and he wasn’t the only one. The others were taking turns trying to grab at her as well. They would roar down from above, trying to grab hold as they passed her, and she had a bad feeling that they were using the more turbulent mountain currents above to gain speed, and then swooping down at her like great eagles.

 _They are strafing me,_ and Elisa gasped as, once again, she had to twist to the side to avoid a grasping hand. _That’s why they keep appearing over the top of me._ _Have to do something diff—_

_WHACK!_

Lightening exploded behind her eyes as her head glanced off a half–fallen tree at breakneck speed. It was leaning carefree over the river, and she’d struck it full on. Her head lulled obscenely as her legs jolted in spasm. Then her body went as limp as a severed marionette and she plunged into the foaming white water …

…

……

_……… She was standing in the shallows of a rushing river._

_That wasn’t unusual, but this was a river Elisa could actually see. Lifting her human hands, she touched her face in shock, amazed that her sight and hearing were restored._

_‘This must have happened when I hit my head,’ she thought and reached up to feel her temple, though she could find no evidence of a wound. There wasn’t any pain. Her face did feel oddly cold to her own fingers, but she was too distracted taking in all the sights and sounds she’d been denied for so long._

_And there was much to see, though little of it made any sense._

_The sudden sensory rush would have been overwhelming but for how dim everything was. For all around her was a strange and thick … dusk. It felt like the last few rays of light before the deep darkness of night. All color was gone, and the water rushing beneath her and the river stones peeking at her through the dark waters were the grimmest shades of gray._

_Before her, the river itself was soundless, though behind her she could hear a thrumming roar, like a real river. That strum was to the tune of her own heartbeat, and it was slowing, slowing. The dark waters rippled and flowed around her, black like oil, though she couldn’t feel the cold of the water._

_‘Or maybe Demona’s spell is finally fading?’_

_It would explain the eeriness of her surroundings. She stared at the sharp and triangular reflections of light across the surface, though there was no sun shining down. ‘It’s so dark,’ she worried. ‘Must be late at night, but everything feels so … so wrong.’_

_She stood there for what felt like an eternity, her eyes wide with relief for her restored senses, yet filled with worry. Anxiety was a heavily weighted ball in her stomach. ‘Can’t stand here forever, so **do** something,’ she finally demanded of herself. Straightening her shoulders, she took a step forward, heading a little further into the dark, roiling water. _

_‘This is so odd,’ she thought, and was considering going back when a flutter of movement caught her attention, and she saw a white and painted feather float by. Following it with her eyes, she startled when the river back came into sharp focus. The land beyond was still indistinct but seemed ... brighter somehow, like the faintest light of a new day._

_Elisa took another step forward, and then she saw figures moving on the other side. They seemed insubstantial, but for her every step they became more and more distinct. Where they were once flitting shadows, color burst into life around them, and into the lands beyond, vivid and bright. All the spectrum of colors greeted her newly restored eyes, shades of yellows and reds and blues and everything in-between; grass and trees and ... and people._

_She could see one of them worrying at the edge of the river, moving as if trying to enter the water ... but hesitating as if unable. Somehow they seemed familiar, and she took another step — she was midway across now — and the colorful shape became distinct enough to make out a pair of gentle eyes, familiar and loved._

_... ‘Mom?!’_

_‘Is that you?!’ and Elisa’s heart leap in her chest as she called out to the figure across the river. She shouted again when it felt like her voice was lost, stifled, as if she hadn’t spoken at all. But she must have been heard, because the color-burst-woman raised her hands in joyful recognition and a keen pierced the gloom._

_It **was** her mom ... it was Diane Maza. But she looked different, younger and vibrant. Her movements were fluid and graceful and she was wearing her favorite gele and buba. Bright and joyful eyes beheld Elisa from across the dark river. _

_‘Elisa, honey! I’m here! I’ve been waiting for you!'_

_Elisa gave a wordless cry of relief, for across the dark river was her family, or most of them. Beth, and her father and mother were there, waving at her. Her father, Peter, was resplendent in his own Hopi ceremonial dress, and now even more figures were joining her parents, milling around excitedly. Behind them, her grandparents and behind them people she barely recognized and behind them ... on and on and on._

_But of her brother Derek, there was no sign._

_The roar behind her was dimming as she headed towards them, one careful step at a time. The dark river glinted at her, and the far bank seemed brighter for their presence ... as behind her the far bank grew ever darker. The rushing cold of water all around her was fading._

_Then Goliath and the others crossed her mind, and she snapped out of her near trance. She hesitated in the river, looking upward if she could see her adopted clan flying overhead, only to see dark roiling clouds, like a ferocious windstorm, balefully silent. She felt like she was missing something, something critically important._

_Looking down, she startled to see she was standing on a Hopi ceremonial stick, a lovingly etched soul ladder, fully crossing the span of the dark river … and that was why she couldn’t feel the cold of the darkness beneath her._

_‘It’s safe to cross on,’ Beth called to Elisa, waving cheerfully. She, too, was the same and yet different. Her clothing shimmered, changing from outfit to outfit, as if Beth was materialized only by the strength of her own mind, and in her distraction, she wasn’t consciously controlling her visage._

_‘I’m just dreaming,’ Elisa realized, but if she was, there was something very, very wrong with this dream. The thrum behind her was growing slower, and her father’s voice drifted over to her. He was singing a song, one she recognized from a ceremony at her aunt’s funeral …_

_… Oh._

_Oh!_

_Elisa stumbled back, and nearly fell off the ceremonial spirit bridge. ‘This is a bad dream. This isn’t happening, this isn’t right,’ she argued with herself and then took a step back. Then she gasped when she felt a shock of cold and ... pain. Going back wasn’t going to be pleasant, and on the bank not far ahead, everyone had seen her falter._

_“No, Elisa, come back!’ and Diane stumbled forward with a cry, only stopping when she reached the very edge and it was clear she could come no further._

_Meanwhile, Beth tilted her head curiously, and then crossed her arms. She had a pensive, knowing look on her face now, while the rest of the colorful figures surged towards the dark water, stopping short of the edge, all of them beckoning frantically._

_‘Don’t listen to Mom!’ Beth called, and the sudden, conspiring look in her eyes was so achingly familiar. ‘Derek and Maggie aren’t here yet, and there’s still people who need you on the other side! You can go back, if you want.’_

_‘Beth!’ Diane cried, but Peter threw his arms around Diane’s shoulders, the way he always did when she was very upset about something. She flinched as he murmured something she didn’t seem to want to hear. She looked up at Peter and dropped her head into her hands, and then looked up again._

_‘Whatever you have to do, baby,’ Diane called a moment later, though she didn’t sound as if she really meant it._

_All the while, Elisa was fleeing the river of death and heading back towards the far bank. Each step was ever more painful, and now she absolutely could feel the coldness of the river, though not the dark one she was currently fleeing. But she chose to brave the pain to double back then accept the implications if she wasn’t lost in a nightmare._

_‘They aren’t dead,’ Elisa told herself firmly. ‘This is just a nightmare and they are **not** dead.’_

_Elisa heard her mother call for her again, and it was a mournful sound. She flinched and looked over her shoulder in spite of herself, and hesitated when she saw her father leading her mother away, back into the sunlit lands beyond. She swallowed thickly when her father gestured at her … his fingers offering her a gesture for respect and love._

_‘In death, we are reborn,’ Peter’s voice whispered to her from across the river, ‘and here we await you.’ As comforted as she was frightened, she smiled at her father even as she shrank away from the spectre of death and stepped back, the distant roar behind her growing ever louder._

_‘We love you!’ Elisa heard her mother cry, and that was the last thing she heard before the roar in her ears overwhelmed her ... and then cut out completely ………_

_......_

_..._

It was luck that washed her onto the sandy bank a few miles away.

Luck … and the widening of the river, as it slowed at the opening of the next valley over. It had changed from whitewater rapids to a much more languid pace. Maybe it was the slow feel of the water that added an extra edge to her fear, but she had plenty to be frightened of at this point.

After jolting awake, Elisa was relieved to feel solid ground under her. Her head was resting in a stone hollow, and her mouth was beneath the water line, but her nose was clear. Her stomach felt full … too full, and she gasped up gouts of water. The spasms hurt, and her tail twitched.

The spritely night winds were still flowing, and she spread her wings a little, using them to help drag herself further onto the bank. But as her body followed her trembling wings, her head hurt hideously, and she found she couldn’t lift it properly. She wrapped her arms around her own head, feeling oddly disconnected from her body.

After only a few more gusts of air and barely a foot further onto shore and it was there, at the edge of the shore line, that her indomitable strength gave out. As she rolled onto her back, her head flopped obscenely and then she knew her neck was either severely sprained or broken.

 _It’s a bad fracture,_ she realized, touching herself with trembling fingers. It had to be, as a fully broken neck would have meant death. Her insane luck had held, though it felt less like luck and more a curse at this point. Remembering her dream and her mother’s cry, she didn’t bother to follow that tendril of thought or wallow in self-pity, but did what she could to help herself instead. She had to adjust her neck with her hands, and left her arms wrapped around her head for comfort and fear.

Then she lay quietly for a time, too hurt to move.

It felt dreadfully dangerous to lie on the ground like this. Surely it was only a matter of time before the mountain clan found her, but there was no choice now. She could hardly think anymore, and drifted away for a time … and thankfully the dream of the dark river didn’t return to haunt her.

It was the scent of … not even rot anymore, but a cool dampness that stirred her consciousness. There was a brush along her side, and then the feel of mossy fingers.

Her tail slapped the thing away, and as she did, her sleek limb slid along the zombie’s body, or rather, the lack of one. The river had been most unkind; the zombie was just a torso with a head and one arm, and nothing more. The wide span of meaty rib cage suggested the ruins of a man, and her tail recoiled from the feel of the jutting vertebra, however jelly-soft and malleable.

Elisa’s tail curled feebly for distress, but she couldn’t otherwise move. Some part of her recognized that the zombie was too decomposed to be truly dangerous, but it was little comfort, especially as she struck it away and mere moments later, the fingers were back … the thing just mobile enough to keep coming.

As persistent as it was useless, it dragged the remnants of its entrails behind it, the ropy-dry viscera trailing forlornly in its wake. It’s clammy touch spoke of longing, an insatiable desire to feed, though anyone capable of looking at it could only conclude that some last visages of magic compelled it ... as science had long since washed its hands of the whole affair.

With a soundless moan, Elisa struck it away with her tail a few more times, and then even that was too much effort. Her last attempt knocked it towards the water, with the hope the river would take the miserable thing away from her. Her last bits of strength saw her tail coil once and then relax.

There was peace then.

She felt the cool air as it puffed in and out of her lungs, whispery proof she was still alive. The smell of fallen leaves and undergrowth was thick in her nose, along with the scent of the pine trees that wreathed above her like a sheltering blanket. Cool droplets of dew collected between the great pine’s needles and dripped down from the branches far above. The wetness dotted her forehead, trickling down along her face as waves of hot and cold washed over her.

Her breaths grew slower as she calmed. All seemed still and quiet. Lying there, she dared to hope that the miserable undead was washed away … that the mountain clan wouldn’t find her after all … that she might hold out for the dawn and slip away to freedom.

Then another brush of mossy fingers, and Elisa closed her sightless eyes, hidden behind her hands, and her breath left her in a long-suffering sigh. _Not this shit again,_ and she groaned to herself, even as the dry fingers curled insistently around her tail. The span of two breaths passed and there was a most curious sensation, like a ring of jello around her tail.

 _He’s trying to eat my tail,_ she realized, though she couldn’t muster the fear and horror she should have been feeling. It helped that she wasn’t being injured, just thoroughly revolted. She could feel the soft jaw as it worked steadily and uselessly, the bones stretching hideously as the thing moved as if to swallow her like a snake. It was a futile endeavor, as the thing’s throat was open and gaping, and her tail merely slid past the useless jaws and out the opening.

Nothing if not persistent, the zombie continued to work its way up her tail and toward her bottom. She wondered idly what the hell it thought it was going to accomplish, and then the ground near her shuddered.

_Thump, thump, thump … thump!_

The feel of the ground reminded her of the shambling foot falls of some unseen — but very heavy — being. There was another brush along her other side, and she felt a bustle of wiry fur.

 _Wha_ … _?_

…and then she felt the zombie jolt and the thing was torn away, though _tear_ was a strong word for its gelatinous state. It felt more like its jaw had stretched clean off, with the rest of it falling to pieces under some unseen onslaught. She felt rough pads bracing the weight of shuffling feet and the gentle brush of long, wicked claws.

 _Bear,_ she thought, and her mind went distant. Then all went quiet again, and the long moments passed in a haze. Had she been capable of sight, she might have seen a white feather float by, gleaming brightly, momentarily outshining the luminous moon overhead.

Another long moment, and then a puff of breath … first over her chest and then up over her hands. She felt moist lips nuzzle over her fingers, nudging at them until her face was partly uncovered. It _was_ a bear, and she wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved for the rescue, or if her situation was now even worse than before.

The answer came swiftly thereafter, when the youngster licked her gently, with no trace of the sharp teeth hidden inside the longish muzzle. Though she had no way of recognizing him, the young bear certainly recognized her. It was one of the ones she’d shared her meals with further upriver, and now he was repaying her kindness.

An adult black bear might have an entirely different response to finding an injured, helpless creature lying on the ground, but providence — and the fortune of a very full stomach — meant the night had taken a kinder turn. For the nuzzling touch was friendly and an attempt at comfort; the same snuffling kisses the yearling would have offered its mother or an injured sibling.

“Hey there,” Elisa whispered to her companion, relaxing completely as the equivalent of a warm fur blanket settled down next to her. She could smell salmon on his breath, and it was a far better stink than the dry mossy scent of her last visitor. She spent the better part of an hour under the watchful eye of the youngster, and was just fading into deep unconsciousness when a massive _whoosh_ of air heralded the return of her captors.

 _Oh bother everything,_ she thought. _They've found me._

She drifted away as massive hands traced over her body. They gathered her up even as an older set of hands — complete with curving sword — sent her young protector fleeing for his life.

 

*******

 

Elisa stirred awake sometime later.

Consciousness returned in fits and starts, beginning with the realization that it was the next night. She couldn’t remember waking proper, though she had some sense of many hands on her and then nothing. But it had to be the next night, for while her neck ached fiercely, it was much improved in a way only the stone sleep provided.

Her tail was the first thing she moved, and she realized she was confined within a fur blanket. The next thing she tried to move was her head, and maybe that wasn’t the best idea. She stiffed a little for the pain, though she was relieved she could move her neck properly again. She’d gone through a full day’s sleep, but still everything ached, and she could tell she was hot with fever.

Worse, the stifling scent of a cave filled her nose, confirming her last waking memory … that the mountain clan had found her after all. It was a dreadful realization, and she sagged a little, rethinking further attempts to move. If her captors thought she was still unconscious, she wasn’t likely to be seen as entertaining, and so they might leave her to rest while longer.

The detective in her wanted to use the time to think and plan, but the rest of her was too weak to follow through. She must have drifted back off, because a heavy _thump_ from nearby startled her awake a while later. The vibrations through the floor were strong enough to be felt and she moaned softly, and then clamped her lips back shut when she remembered where she was.

 _Stay quiet,_ she warned herself groggily, and she stopped moving. Her tail twitched, and she could tell she was still wrapped up in a fur blanket. She felt comforted in spite of herself for the warmth of the wiry fur, and the familiar scent it carried. She felt warm and … and … wet?

Frowning, Elisa pressed her nose under the blanket, and her suspicions were confirmed by a pungent scent. She chided herself — _wow, what are we, two years old?_ — not because she was ashamed for being so sick to have dirtied herself, but for fear that the mountain clan might very well punish her for the mess.

Fighting a strong sense of vertigo, Elisa rolled over with a soft groan and managed to get her feet under her. She didn’t want to get up or even move, but she couldn’t stay lying here in her own puddle. Then she stiffened when massive hands curled around her, lifting her out from the furs and pulling her close.

She felt the brush of another body nearby, even as a second set of hands, only a touch smaller, took the furs away. _Probably taking them outside of the cave for the smell,_ she thought as her heart began to pound for her growing fear.

The river clan would absolutely have taken the opportunity to hurt her over something like this. This clan had seemed no better, and her first instinct was to fight whatever was coming, but she was too weak and feverish to even try. Her head rolled fitfully on the large male’s shoulder, and she felt him squeeze her closer, almost like he actually gave a damn, which seemed unlikely for the fact he’d drugged her and did god knows what to her while she was unconscious.

He was certainly no gentleman, but she was out of options, and wherever he was taking her, she wanted nothing to do with it. She knew she might make things even worse for herself, but it seemed worth a try, and she swallowed thickly. Then she broke her silence, doing something she hadn’t done since the end of that first week with the river clan … and pleaded for mercy.

“Hey buddy,” Elisa whispered fearfully, “whatever you are planning, just … please, _don’t_.”

The large male turned his head toward her, and she felt the warm puff of his breath over her face. “I didn’t mean to,” Elisa whispered, “I don’t feel so good,” and she went quiet when his cheek brushed hers and she didn’t know what to think. Then he knelt down and held her out and away from him, and she panicked, “No, no—”

She didn’t scream, _exactly_ , but it was a close thing and then she felt a rush of wet warmth as she was settled down into some sort of container, what felt like a large aluminum wash tub. It was full of hot sudsy water — a bath and the first one she’d had in _months_ — and her stilted cry ended with a low moan of honest pleasure.

She felt an answering rumble from the heavy body above her, as if the large male was amused. All the while he was careful to support her sore neck with one hand even as she squirmed for her surprise and her tail splashed in the water like a startled hatchling. She felt him shift his weight and then he began to wash her with a soft cloth.

She couldn’t help but relax a little, only to startle again when a second pair of hands — slender like the ones that kept touching her that first night — tried to join in only to be firmly rebuffed by the large male.

 _This one is mine,_ was the strong sense she felt from that exchange, and she didn’t like that much. Thankfully, she wasn’t forced into an argument she couldn’t hope to win, as when he washed her front he did so without lingering on her breasts unnecessarily. She did stiffen when he gently inserted one finger to check her internal wound, though there was little she could do to stop him. His touch was swift and gentle between her legs, there and gone, and then he carefully turned her around and pressed her to his chest, nestling her head into the hollow of his neck while he tended her back and wings.

She felt the warm pulse of his heartbeat in the hollow of his throat. _You are either very trusting or not that bright,_ she thought woozily, the tip of her tongue touching her razor sharp fangs. _What a lovely bite I could give you …_

But the gentle rubbing down her back and around her wings was too warm and comforting to keep such thoughts, and she relaxed against him despite her misgivings. She felt him touch around the oddly perfect circular holes at the apex of her wings, now fully healed but still exotic-looking. She winced for the memory that evoked, and then blinked sightlessly when he gave her a little squeeze, what felt like a gesture of honest compassion.

The water was growing a little too cool when she was finally lifted out and carefully toweled off. She found herself clinging to him just to keep upright, and she was relieved when the second-large pair of hands appeared out of the darkness to wrap her up in a new set of furs.

Elisa was already asleep as they nestled her back onto a new pile of bedding.

 


	11. Mend

 

Twilight faded to dusk.

Deep within the Appalachians, in a cliff-side cave overlooking one of the largest rivers, three members of the mountain clan awoke from their stone sleep only to discover the fourth hadn’t yet emerged.

Elisa’s stone form remained solid, still curled on her side, which sent the three gargoyles around her into a panic. If she could hear, she would have heard a shrill cry of horror, counterpart to a low, despondent rumble, and a sad sigh. Because gargoyles that pass in their sleep never revert back to flesh, perhaps it was understandable they’d assumed the worst.

The truth was a little less alarming, though still worrisome. For Elisa, at first all was peaceful, but when she tried to inhale after reverting to flesh, it felt as if something was covering her mouth so completely that she couldn’t breathe.

_Nhh...?!_

That attempt and failure at breath jarred her awake and her tail jerked, causing small cracks in her stone skin. It was enough to alert the others that she was too weak to break through her own stone casing. Several sets of concerned hands descended on her then, helping her shed her stone shell.

Her shell was rather thin, but her numerous injuries, infection, starvation, and fractured neck had overwhelmed her healing and immune systems, even with the stone sleep. The struggle for survival meant she’d strained her body to the utmost, and now she was paying for it. Too much longer and she _would_ have torn her way free on her own, but fortunately she was saved the effort.

She sucked in a great breath once released from her stone skin, and felt a rush of cold night air. Instinct had her stretching her wings for balance and as they filled with air she stumbled forward, her legs too unsteady to bear her slight weight. Reaching out with her hands, she tried to drop down to all fours (which was her preference anyway) but it was a futile attempt.

A massive hand clamped down on something encircling her waist and pulled her upright. The feel of hands grabbing her was as disconcerting as ever, though she was calmer for the kindness she'd experienced the night before. She might have tried to push the hand away, but a wave of vertigo had her grabbing hold of the arm around her for balance instead.

"Don't," Elisa rasped into the darkness.

Yes, she was wobbly, yes, she could hardly stand, but she wanted those hands off her, right now. More then anything, she wanted all five limbs on the ground with space to move. She was still alive because she listened to her instincts and right now she didn't want to be held, contained, or controlled, not while she was trying to get her bearings.

Then she recoiled when she realized she'd spoken aloud again. Sheer terror had been an excellent teacher over the many months she'd been alone and had left a lasting impression in her subconscious. Her back arched for nervousness as she remembered attacks by the shambling dead and the slimy, grasping hands that would materialize whenever she made too much noise.

Elisa's jaw clenched against the words rattling around her throat, keeping them suppressed. After so many months spent alone, trapped in near-perfect silence, speaking felt abnormal. It didn't help that she couldn't hear herself, and had to consciously force air past her throat to be heard. Making words she couldn't hear was always an effort, as without visual or audial cues she wasn't even sure if she was making sense anymore.

The large male began to move and he pulled on the constriction around her waist to coax her to follow him. Elisa didn't like the feeling of being pulled on, and pawed at the constriction around her waist. The material tore almost immediately, and she felt woolen cloth puddle around her feet.

 _Some kind of dress,_ she thought, realizing she'd accidentally shredded it with her claws. It was one of the downsides to having razor blades on her fingers, and she wasn't sure how she felt about the loss of her new clothing. The feel of anything around her had become foreign during her dark journey, and she was further put out when she realized the large male had been using her makeshift belt to keep her upright.

She felt someone's tail brush over her feet as whomever gathered up her ruined dress ... and she winced a little and wrapped her wings around herself for modesty instead. She reached up to rub at her face and wobbled again as vertigo overwhelmed her. The large male's hands kept a tight grip on her while around her ankle, the cuffs and chain shifted when she shuffled her feet for balance. It was a bleak reminder that she was still captive. Her spirit was willing, but for her condition there would be no fight tonight; not with how wasted she was.

The large male seemed to sense that, and scooped her up with ease. Realizing the futility, Elisa gave in and laid quietly in his arms. It was the beginning of a much closer association with him, heralded by how he gathered her up without the slightest hesitation.

It seemed he’d given up on keeping his distance. Her sense of him hovering just out of reach ended entirely, replaced by firm hands on her at any point she was awake enough to realize them. Even now her head was nestled back in the hollow of his throat, and she could feel each landing of his massive feet.

She felt the air currents die down as they crossed the boundary and entered the cave proper. The familiar scent of cave air filled her senses with its stale, mossy dampness. She felt the large male adjust his grip to free one of his hands so as to hold her with an arm and a wing. Her mouth was pressed into the hollow of his throat, and she could feel small vibrations from him, suggesting he was speaking to someone.

The detective in her could tell that whoever he was speaking to, they rarely interrupted, suggesting his words held great weight. There was a sense of authority to go along with his great size, and that was as relieving as it was concerning. Her sense of him was in complete opposition to the leaderless river clan. There was no sense of ... _uncertainty_ about him, for lack of a better word. There was no suddenness or random pettiness. His movements were calm and thoughtful and reliable, and soon she was relaxing again as it seemed nothing dreadful was about to happen.

It was about this point that she noticed how much clearer everything felt. _Fever must have broke,_ she realized as she gingerly touched her neck. There were no beads of sweat and she no longer felt the waves of hot and cold like the day before. Her head was loopy and she was achy all over, but overall she was feeling better.

Then the large male shifted her in his arms, and knelt as if to sit down. Her drooping tail brushed over deer fur laid out over the floor, and she felt him slide fingers down her body, past her bottom to coil her limp tail around his arm, so as to avoid squishing her as he sat. His boldness with her was disconcerting, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

In the meantime, the chain had come uncoiled and she felt it drag as he settled and that annoyed her. She reached out and started trying to wrap it back around her ankle and out of the way. She tugged at the length of the chain, only to discover that it was attached to something. Her upset must have shown on her face, because she felt the large male brush his tail across hers, and the wing around her tightened a bit.

Anxious now, Elisa followed the line with her fingers only to discover that it was attached to the big male himself, wrapped around his ankle much like her own. _Oh bother,_ she thought as her heart sank. It seemed the mountain clan wasn't taking any chances with her anymore, and maybe that was to be expected, what with the sheer disaster her last attempt had landed her into.

 _I’m chained to him for now,_ and Elisa winced as she realized the deeper implications. _No way to escape like this ... need to figure out some way to get it off._

It was a real problem, and she grew nervous when her questing fingers brushed over the warm skin of his foot. Up to this point, she had done everything in her power to avoid touching these people, curling away from their hands as best she could. She had no real sense of what they looked like for her complete rejection of them, and she was too fearful to try to explore them in any useful way.

Touching the big male like this felt dangerous and she hesitated when his massive foot-talons flexed. She felt caught out, as she needed some idea what she was dealing with if she wanted to free herself from the chain, and yet she was also afraid to touch him. She _was_ nestled in his lap, but that was a far cry from actively running her hands over his body to explore him.

Her previous experiences warned her against such forwardness, as the river clan had brutally punished any of her attempts to touch them, even accidentally. Their cruel lessons were hard to overcome. Fighting off another wave of vertigo, she swallowed nervously and worried over what to do.

 _Should let it go for now,_ she thought, but the miserable chain wasn't going to loosen itself, and this might be the best time to do something about it. Her tail flicked back and forth for her upset, and after another moment's hesitation, she tried again to feel out the situation. Tracing her fingers along his muscle, she was relieved when he remained patient with her feather-light exploration of his appendage.

At least, until her fingers traced over the thin leather binding that was keeping the chain clasped around his ankle. _I can shred this easily,_ she realized, and that was when he finally and gently rebuffed her. She recoiled and wrapped her arms around herself, nervous but comforted to know she could break his end of the chain free just by slicing at it.

He reacted to her withdrawing into herself by giving her a little squeeze, and then touched at the chain. She had the distinct impression he was checking to make sure it wasn't uncomfortable. There was no sense of impending punishment or unpleasantness in any of his reactions, and that at least was a relief. Feeling a touch calmer for the consistent lack of aggression from him, she settled back and tried to relax.

As her head settled against the smooth expanse of his lower chest, she realized he was still chatting with someone. She could feel the vibrations from his throat, faint but still there, coming and going in natural rhythms; the easy back and forth so typical of family. The small movements of his arms suggested he was taking up some sort of task, and not long after, the scent of wood smoke teased at her nose.

It seemed he was building a campfire, as waves of warmth began to pulse against her back. The hints of kerosene and the scent of burning wood and pine needles drifted wide, and the sheer normalcy of it all was very comforting, to the point that Elisa drifted back off for a time.

The smell of wood smoke lingered, and soon she was dreaming of old camping trips ... _her mother’s attempts at cooking over a camp fire which never went well and the blurry greenery of half-remembered trees and wild fern and geraniums as she chased after Beth and Derek ... following winding campground trails while looking for pine cones to throw on the fire._

_Sisk-kish-pop went the burning cones, and the dream shifted, and now she was tussling with Beth and Derek over the best marshmallow-roasting sticks ... merry shouting filling her mind, along with her parent’s voices, chattering about boring adult things like level areas for tents and not leaving food out for bears._

_She remembered the whik whik whik of her father sharpening their cooking sticks with his pocket knife and their mother insisting they eat real food before any marshmallows …_

... and then she shivered awake as a large hand began rubbing her back between her wings. She made a soft noise of protest for the loss of those lovely dreams, but was swiftly distracted.

There was a smell in the air, a mixture of wild game, drying blood, and boiling meat, and she wrinkled her nose even as her stomach clenched eagerly over the scent of food. There was another smell too, floating wide and faint and familiar from across the cave. It wasn't mixed in with the smell of food, but was a side-scent, as if something piled in a basket meant for later.

It smelled like cinnamon and that bothered her, reminding her of her miserable experience with the coastal clan. But she set that thought aside for distraction when the large male's wing unwrapped and folded back. There was a sudden gust of coolness for the loss of her wing-blanket and then she was lifted and settled more upright in the large male’s lap, with her back snug against his chest.

One of his hands wrapped around her stomach to support her, and for all the handling she promptly tuned out and forgot the unsettling scent. The other hand wrapped firmly around her throat, and it was a well-practiced movement.

 _He’s done this with me before,_ Elisa thought and then her head was tilted back and the rim of a chipped cup was pressed to her lips. There was a certain lack of patience for any sort of movement, as if eating was now required and no longer just assumed, but she didn't argue. She just swallowed down the watery stew in little mouthfuls, the tip of a thumb at the corner of her mouth insisting she drink every drop.

She felt better, a bit steadier, and she settled back against him as the cup was removed. She felt the curl of his large wing as he wrapped her back up, and she leaned back against him for a few moments. Several deep, slow breaths later, and she felt steady enough to reach out a hand and touch along the webbing of the wing wrapped around her.

It was becoming obvious this guy didn't intend to hurt her, at least, not outright. They had mistreated her initially, denying her food and water, teasing and then drugging her. Something had happened while she was unconscious — and she was sure the answer was going to be terribly upsetting — but it was hard to stay frightened when so much kindness was being offered her way.

She did feel better down below and hadn't felt any stabbing pain, so that was something ... _stockhome syndrome,_ the detective in her offered as a warning. _Don't let your guard down. It might seem like they are nice now, but who knows what they are actually up to. The only good thing is it seems they don't want you dead, which means another chance at escape later._

The turnabout was a real mystery, and though she was still a captive, thrashing and fighting hadn't worked. It was time for a different approach. Hesitating, she worked her mouth, biting back the fear that her mind had so closely linked to noise, both for the zombies and for her time with the river clan.

 _In for a penny_ , Elisa thought, and with another deep breath, she took the plunge. "Thank you," she whispered up at her captor, forcing the air passed her lips to make the words. If she couldn't fight her way free, maybe she could befriend them and gain their trust enough for a better attempt later?

Maybe it was worth a try.

"Do you have a name?" Elisa asked, tensing when she felt him straighten, feeling sure he'd understood her. She found herself hoping for the best, even as her hands clenched into defensive fists.

The results were a mixed bag of hope and uselessness, as to be expected. For of course he had a name, and of course he had no way to tell her what it was. But that wasn't the point. She felt heartened when the vibrations in his throat came swiftly, and she could tell he was speaking to her in answer, even going so far as to grab her hands and squeeze them. He seemed so happy she'd addressed him, and she felt encouraged by his positive response.

"I guess you know by now I'm feeling scared about all this, but I don't think you mean to hurt me anymore," she continued, and she hoped to god that was true. There were more vibrations in response, more words she couldn't understand and then he outright _hugged_ her. That was a surprise, and nestled within in his hands, her tense fists slowly loosened and relaxed.

"My name is Elisa," she said, finally introducing herself proper. It still felt like a dreadful risk, but she kept going, "and I am deaf and blind. I am looking for my family. Maybe ... you could help me find them." There was an answering squeeze from his tail, and his cheek brushed hers.

"I used to live in New York, and I am trying to contact someone named David Xanatos. He knows someone who can help me recover," and Elisa touched her eyes and ears in explanation. She had the sense that he was listening intently, and asked, "do you have a cell phone? Some way to make a phone call?"

It was a long shot, and she wasn't really surprised when no cell phone materialized. She tried not to get frustrated when it became clear he couldn't help her reach her family in any useful way. She could tell he was trying to explain something to her, taking her hands and tapping them and even making gestures, but it was all incomprehensible to her.

Meaningful communication wasn't going to be possible, but that he was trying at all was encouraging. "Listen," and Elisa leaned forward hopefully, "I need to find my family if I ever want to see and hear again. That means I need to keep moving—"

And that was the end of the conversation, as she felt him take her hand and place it on the side of his face, and then he shook his head for _no_. It was a firm movement, definitely negative, and his arms tightened around her.

"You don't understand," Elisa said and a note of pleading entered her voice. "I can't live like this. I need help, I need to find my family."

But it seemed all for naught. She was sure the big guy was insisting she remain, and he wouldn't budge on that. He did hug her closer though, and he was still trying to explain something, but she just shook her head. There was no point in arguing if he wasn't going to change his mind, and the attempt was tiring her out. And so she quieted down, twisting her fingers through the loop of chain around her ankle.

Her frustration didn't last though, slowly evaporating as the arms around her remained supportive.

 _I can work with this,_ she decided as his tail coiled around hers. _Whatever it takes to free myself, I can work with this,_ and she tilted her head back and relaxed enough to fall back asleep.

 

*******

The next night was better.

Feeling stronger tonight, the first thing Elisa did when she awoke was try to assert herself with her new companion. "I'd like to stay outside," she said after wriggling free of her stone skin. She wrapped her wings back around herself, and made to step away, thinking to try and get a feel for the ledge outside the cave. But apparently that wasn't acceptable, as the large male's hand landed on her arm and tightened, though not painfully.

Elisa considered arguing even as he firmly guided her inside, but she was still weak and didn't want to rock the boat.  Talking remained a bother, and so she didn't speak often, but she was never punished when she did. Her confidence in the mountain clan was slowly building as the days passed and nothing dreadful happened, and she continued to test the waters. Now that she felt safe enough to talk, she slowly began to peek out of her shell, figuratively speaking.

The second thing bothering her was the belt still wrapped around her waist. It felt itchy and confining, and she loathed the feel of it for reasons far deeper than the tightness wrapped around her. The thin loop was no protection against an attack or the cold. Some part of her wanted clothes, even if they weren't doing much to cover anything. It was the same part of her that pushed her to try and enter the beach hut and had wanted the house on the river. But the rest of her, especially that wild part of her that had kept her alive all these terrible months, was insistent against.

She couldn't escape the fact that the belt meant added danger if the shambling dead managed to grab her by it. That they seemed so debilitated as to be laughably harmless was no consolation, not after months of being tormented and terrorized by slimy hands in the dark and stench-ridden, rending-ripping teeth. It only took one to absolutely ruin her night for days.

Anything they could grab a hold of was bad news, and wrapping herself up in easily graspable cloth solely for the sake of someone’s pearl-clutching wasn’t worth the risk, especially since the lack of anything to clasp had saved her sorry ass so many times _._ Memories of grasping corpses with ripping teeth and sheer blind terror far outstripped any sense of shame for her bare skin, though it helped that she couldn't see any lingering eyes.

There was another reason she worried at the leather loop ... stemming from her subconscious, a feeling she had yet to work though. For accepting anything more permanent then food felt like surrender, like betrayal, like giving up on trying to free herself and find her family. It was an unspoken feeling like she was just ... _accepting_ her new circumstances. She wasn't a quitter, and she did know she would never find her family or her clan — and thus never find Xanatos and Puck to break Demona's spell! — if she stayed isolated like this.

 _If I ever want to see and hear again,_ _I need to find some way to escape and continue on down the river_ … _have to keep moving …_ and moments later her tail began worrying at the belt around her waist. Her fingers followed after, and she bent her head to feel around the material, trying to get a sense of how it was latched. She had just found the rough clasp, and began to unwind it when she felt a hand land on her shoulder.

She realized the male was rumbling at her, likely in disapproval. Then the large male’s hand cupped hers and his wings settled around her, but she wasn’t having any of it and she bared her fangs right back up at him.

“No,” Elisa said, even as a thrill of fear flashed up her spine. “Not ... wearing this.” It wasn't even proper clothing anyway. It was just a belt and hid nothing from prying eyes, not that she cared what people thought of her at this point. That ship had long sailed ...

Elisa pulled her hands free with a soft noise of complaint and even dared to flick him with her tail. His tail responded by curling around her and his warm wings tightened and there was another vibration through his chest. She was never more acutely aware how vulnerable she was right now, but she didn’t let that stop her one iota.

“I … said … no,” and Elisa lingered on each syllable, in her best _you better listen or else_ voice. She laid down the law and she was heartened when he released her hand. He made no further attempt to stop her as she squirmed out of the confining loop of leather. She felt it slice under the edge of her sharp talons. That was unintentional, but just as well, as the loop fell away.

Elisa kicked the small belt to the side, and relaxed for the lack of tightness around her waist. Now if she could just do something about the chain around her ankle ... and she settled down and picked at it while the male's thick tail flicked in protest over her own. Then she recoiled a little when the male turned and grabbed her hands to stop her from fussing at the chain.

She frowned when he knelt as if to gather her up again, but she darted under the furs instead, thwarting him. Then a tiny smile touched her lips as she worried at the chain while under the furs. She felt his tail curl and she imagined it was for amusement, and then she felt him reach under the blanket, grab her ankle, pull it out even as she twitched her talons in warning, and then the damned bastard _tickled her toes!_

_Hey!_

... and then released her.

She huffed at him, and hiding under the furs worked for awhile, as he moved off and stopped fussing over her ... but peace (and sneaking little pokes at the chain) came to an end when the smaller gargoyle moved in.

Elisa wasn't sure what the other wanted — whomever was roughly her size, though heftier — but she wasn't too keen on whatever loop of material the other kept trying to wrap around her. There was some cloth attached to the leather, but she wasn't sure about it. She didn't want it around her.

"Whatever it is, I don't want it," Elisa finally warned the other, even as she inched her way further under the furs, trying to block the other gargoyle from reaching her waist. But the small gargoyle was rather stubborn, and pulled back the furs and all but pounced on her, trying to put whatever it was around her waist again.

_Quit it!_

Elisa's tail quested out and snagged the other gargoyle's ankle and pulled. The interaction far more gentle then previous, but it still sent the other gargoyle rolling away. She still hated the feeling of being touched, especially from total strangers out of the blue like this, and she ducked away from the hands that would not stop worrying at her.

There was a certain undercurrent of playfulness in the chasing that kept her calm, though she really wasn't much for rough housing under normal circumstances.

Eventually Elisa went so far as to flee the comfort of the furs and follow after the length of chain, tracking down and then ducking behind the large male. She had the distinct sense he might be chuckling at her ... either that or he was speaking to the other gargoyle.

There was a moment of peace as the large male turned towards the smaller gargoyle, and Elisa was sure they were going at it again. But this time the other one didn't give up, and after a bit of back and forth, the large male moved off again — was it her imagination or did he seem henpecked? — and once again the smaller gargoyle began to try and approach her.

Well, she wasn’t having any of that, and then the other gargoyle grabbed her hand, and with a sigh she didn’t voice, she snatched the belt away and straightened. “Okay, now it's story time, so _listen_."

The other stopped, and Elisa took a deep breath. "I have to stay on the river, because the winds on the water guide me. I have to stay low, so I can feel where the river turns so I can follow it. Sometimes it’s clear. Sometimes it’s not.”

Elisa bared her fangs, and her tail curled unhappily for memory. “Sometimes there are … _people_ … in the water, and I know you know what I am talking about. You know that smell. Well, the water hides them from me and sometimes when I am flying low I can feel them reaching for me.”

She spread her wings and then curled her hands, mimicking them breaking water and reaching up for her. She traced her hands over the flat expanse of her body, mimicking the grasping fingers as they raked over her from head to midriff, never encountering something to grasp, and she emphasized that point. “They grab for me, but there’s nothing to hold on to, nothing to make them close their fingers.”

“Now,” and here Elisa wrapped the belt loosely over her hips, “imagine I am wearing this.” She raked her fingers again, and this time they reach the belt, and clasp down. Then her fingers ripped off the belt, and she held it out for … whoever was watching.

“ _Now_ I have a problem.”

She stared firmly at the spot she was sure the other person’s head was. “Now I’m going to be pulled underwater and maybe drowned and _absolutely_ eaten alive, and wearing this belt is not worth that to me.”

Not to mention being trapped in this cave… but at that point Elisa felt the big male’s hand land on her shoulder. The feel of him was more supportive than anything else, and he didn’t otherwise interrupt her, only wrapping his big wings around her. His tail brushed down the length of hers, and she appreciated that show of support _._

There was no answer of course, but in the meantime she could tell the male at her back was talking again, and he squeezed her shoulder and then turned towards whomever. The faint movements of his chest suggested he was speaking firmly to the other gargoyle, and then she startled when she felt a tail roughly the size of her own curl against hers, the touch surprisingly friendly.

Then the other gargoyle took the belt from her hands and stepped away. Elisa settled back, surprised for how well that confrontation went. The large male was still holding her, and she had the strong sense he had her back.

 _It’s nice to have back up again,_ Elisa thought. It was a good feeling and her tail stilled as her body followed her mind and relaxed ...

... and she almost smiled.

*******

 

Elisa was laying in the back of the cave when the first inkling of trouble tickled at her nose.

It started with a sharp gust of stale cave air, as if for a sudden movement of massive wings, sending lurking scent eddies her way. She was dreaming pleasant dreams, and at first it was the smell of fresh stew that roused her awake. Food was ever-present in the mountain clan's cave, and always on offer.

 _Must have slept through lunch,_ she thought sleepily, and sat up, peeling back her fur blanket. She yawned and spread her wings, stretching, and then refolded them around herself. The movement further stirred the air currents, which were otherwise quieting down. She was expecting the large male to come get her and was patiently waiting when the second scent finally caught her attention.

It was the same scent as previous, still inviting, still alluring, and it took a moment for her sleepy mind to recognize it, masked as it was underneath a normal scent of stew. It was reminiscent of cinnamon, but much lighter, and it was the same scent she'd caught whiff of the previous day, but had forgotten.

 _The mushroom ring_ , and memories of the coastal clan and the little child and the feral dogs darkened her expression. She rolled her shoulders, remembering the rash across her back. It was fully healed now, but she was sure it was somehow connected to the mushrooms. _They might be poisonous_ , she thought, as many mushrooms tended to be and she winced at the thought that these gargoyles might be eating them.

 _No point in worrying if they have real cinnamon,_ and Elisa frowned as she took in a much deeper breath, teasing out the different scents to make sure she was right before she bothered to bring it up. Another few sniffs, and she was sure it the same scent. She tilted her head and considered what that might mean for any escape attempt, but in the end she was too nice a person to inflict nasty rashes on her captors by staying quiet about it.

"Mushrooms," Elisa said aloud, straightening up and adding, "I can smell mushrooms somewhere. I don't think they are safe to eat." As she spoke she felt the chain around her ankle shift, and she tilted her head for curiosity.

No one approached her, and she couldn’t sense any vibrations through the floor, which was somewhat unusual. After puzzling over the smell and noticing the complete stillness of the air currents in the cave, the detective in her emerged and prompted her to investigate.

Elisa started forward on all fours, moving slowly and carefully to avoid overturning anything. Her tail swished around behind her, though she didn't encounter anything more than the various furs spread out over the otherwise freezing cold cave floor. The mountain clan had already relocated everything onto the walls and off the floor to accommodate her, and honestly, with the amount of care being shown her it was getting hard to stay worried.

It was this new found trust in her surroundings that had her moving across the floor towards the concerning scent. Tracking it down, she fumbled across a hand-carved wooden bowl, and sure enough, it was filled with the same mushrooms. Sniffing the mushrooms closer, she detected that same nauseating smell and her nose wrinkled for displeasure.

 _Burnt cinnamon,_ she thought. _It’s the same smell from the coast for sure. If whoever picked them didn't smell them closely enough and just threw them into a stew, these guys might get real sick ..._ and still there was no vibrations, no touches, no contact of any kind with the others. Rearing up a little, she called out, "Hey, is anyone around? I think these mushrooms gave me a rash somehow. You ... probably shouldn't eat them."

Still nothing.

There were no air currents what-so-ever and her sense of unease grew. _Has everyone left the cave,_ she wondered, and she reached down to worry at the chain around her ankle. _Maybe this would be a good time to try and escape?_

Except now that the moment was upon her, she wasn't so sure she was in a hurry to go. That and she really didn't like the idea that the large male might be hurt. It was a startling realization and her tail swept back and forth. It just ... wasn’t like the mountain clan to not be moving around. No matter what, someone was always in the cave with her. She'd never been left alone, for any reason.

Dropping the bowl to the ground, she leaned forward and spread her wings, flapping them to get the air in the cave moving. No small part of her was expecting a wave of rot, and she was as tense as a whip. Her tail lashed back and forth, unintentionally shaking the chain around her ankle, though she couldn't hear the rattle of it.

One, two, three flaps, and the hair on the back of her neck rose when a strong scent of fresh blood met her nose. _Something's seriously wrong,_ she realized, and she bared her fangs threatening towards the darkness. She hated the sick feeling that was making her heart pound. She started to head towards the mouth of the cave without wasting a moment, dragging the chain after her.

_If something's going down, I don't want to be trapped in here—_

Then her tail touched warm flesh, and she turned and followed it. _It's the big guy_ , she realized, and alarm coursed through her when she realized he wasn’t moving. There was a thick wetness across his shoulder, and she smelled the coppery tang of blood, and it frightened her.

Then she heard it again, that same rustling sound where there should only be silence. _Magic of some kind_ , she worried and she felt over the back of the male, avoiding the bloody spot while feeling the laxness of his body. She was more than a little relieved to find that he was still breathing.

The bizarre rustling sound came again and she followed after it, orienting on where it was coming from. Then she took a page from her hunting attempts and leapt after the sound, as if she was going after a slick and speedy fish. Her lightning-fast attack netted her a catch, but this was no fish.

_Bzzzzzft!_

Elisa could hear _that_ angry sound and the small thing writhing in her hands strongly reminded her of the small child, but maybe a little smaller. But now that she had her hands around the thing she could tell it wasn’t human, transformed or otherwise. Its skin felt like tree bark and then there was the little matter of all its needle teeth.

_Ow ow ow ow ow!_

Elisa shrieked mentally (still avoiding vocalizing for her experiences with the zombies) as all those needle-teeth sank deep into her right arm. The bite was bone-deep and she instinctively let go of the little monster. 

Big mistake.

She then spent the next few minutes dodging and leaping as the thing buzzed around her, trying to get behind her and biting, biting. It seemed too furious to think straight, as while she was obviously blind and deaf, she wasn’t as helpless as she seemed. The furious buzzing helped enormously. The sound marker meant she was able to keep up with it, turning and turning and keeping her claws and razor-sharp fangs facing its direction.

Finally she managed to snag the little monster again, treating it like the crabs she’d man-handled back at the coast.  With flared wings, she finally pinned the thing against the floor of the cave. She even went so far  as to  climb on top of it, using her pitiful weight to keep the writhing thing down. 

Holding down the demon with both hands, Elisa could feel the buzzing vibration of the small body, like the roar of a thousand angry hornets. She fought and fought to keep it pinned to the ground.

It was at this point that she realized she had no idea what to do. Like the fool who grabbed a Black Mamba's tail only to realize that letting go was the _worst possible plan_ , she realized she was well and truly stuck.

How long could she hold this thing down?

“Please someone help!” she finally called, forcing air past her throat to give sound to the words, but there was no answer. Who knew how badly off the others were? Should she try to kill it, though she had no idea what it even was?

Frightened, she started trying to adjust her hands to wrap around the thing’s throat, but it seemed too dangerous. Finally, _finally_ , there was a brush along her tail, and then the big male was up and onto his feet.

The buzzing intensified, sounding almost panicked now.

 _Oh thank god,_ Elisa said while forgetting to push air past her throat to actually speak. _Now help me with this stupid thing! I think it was hurting you guys!_... and help her he did, pouncing over the top of her.

She could feel he was shaking, and she was sure he was growling, and likely still recovering from whatever had happened. Thankfully he was still strong enough to be effective, adding his massive hands to hers and then leaning down with all his weight. She let go when his hands replaced hers and then he turned away, dragging the little thing with him.

Her hand clenched down on his arm, and she felt his shoulder twist sharply, and she could guess why that might be. He didn’t seem to hesitate to kill the thing, and she released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She felt his tail as it wrapped snugly around her waist and that he was alright was such a relief.

Then he turned and wrapped an arm around her and kissed her cheek, and Elisa blushed. _You’re welcome,_ she thought, and settled back while checking over herself and all of her bites. The big male handed her a moist rag and she took it gratefully and began wiping over her new wounds. Luckily they only hurt like the devil; none seemed too serious.

The chain moved as he left her side and there was a long period of quiet. Sometimes the large male came over to check on her, but would always hurry off again. She assumed he was tending to the others in the meantime, and the afternoon passed slowly.

After things had settled, the big male finally returned for good. He seemed steadier, and in a better mood when he coaxed her to sit with him again. "Everyone is okay?" she asked. The squeeze of his tail felt like a confirmation, and that was good.

She was rubbing her hands over her sore arm when she felt a shy brush along her side. The smaller gargoyle settled down next to her then, and the feel of the other was very companionable. There was another shy touch, and then something was pressed into her hands, and the smaller gargoyle's friendly tail poked at hers.

Elisa's lips quirked for the soft cloth in her hands, but she didn't reject the thing, not when it seemed offered as a gift instead of forced on her. Turning the item over in her hands, she realized it was the dress she had worn previously, mended and altered.

There was no belt and the whole thing was soft and airy and loose, like a poncho. It seemed easily escapable under duress, and there was no confining tightness anywhere.

It was perfect.

This time, and with a real smile, Elisa accepted the clothes.

 

 


	12. Beginning of All Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of previous assault, sexual content (cuddle sex)

 

There was a new scent in the air.

It was crisp and light, and at first Elisa couldn't place it. The night winds were fickle this evening, sometimes dying down to nothing, only to return to send her airy dress dancing around her slim body. The breeze chilled her, and carried more of that scent. It was only after the first few ghost touches brushed over her face and wings that she finally realize what she was sensing.

_Snow._

The fluffy-soft flakes swirled around her as she stood at the cave entrance. She took another few steps outside, pulling the length of chain behind her. It was quite long and she knew it had to be noisy as she dragged it after her, always an annoyance. As she stepped out onto the ledge proper, she felt more of the snowflakes land. They melted instantly on her warmer skin, slowly moistening her.

Following after was a deeper, creeping cold. It was a grim reminder how bad the weather was getting, and this was only the start. Winter had arrived at last, and this was the first snow of the season. _By now the salmon have all died and the bears are looking for dens,_ she thought and her fingers found refuge in her armpits as she remembered the one that had protected her. She hoped it had found somewhere comfortable to sleep.

There would be no such comfort for her, not if she left this mountain clan as she'd been meaning to. It was a sobering thought. _What happens when there is freezing rain and I get soaked and can't get warm again? What happens if the river freezes and I can't fish for months?_

 _You die,_ the detective in her whispered back.

Elisa knew that staying warm, fed, and safe meant staying with this group until spring, and heading out then. She sighed and dropped her head, and then a swirl of cave air caught her attention. The warmer puffs of smoke-tinged air hinted that she wasn't alone, and she was sure it meant her new adopted family was checking on her. This was normal, especially whenever she stood outside for longer than a few moments.

Now that things were calmer, she had been paying closer attention to the others, trying to make sense of things. As far as she could tell, there were only three of them living in the cave. It was odd. She was certain there had been more, but now she had only ever encountered the same three.

_Where are the others?_

She wasn’t sure, and it was one of a host of worries-turned-curiosities. Nearly a week had passed since her neck fracture, and things had gotten steadily better. It was getting to the point that she routinely spoke to the others, and sometimes received replies she could understand, though accepting physical touch was still problematic. She still couldn’t bring herself to explore them beyond the merest brushes of fingertips and the touches of their tails.

Physical touch while lost in the darkness was a level of trust still out of reach ... but the candle that was her faith in others had come back from the ashes, and with it her confidence. That meant she had been insisting on standing at the mouth of the cave for fresh air, and more often than not the large male relented.

Most of the time, anyway.

There was another gust of cave air and Elisa felt his tail touch hers, announcing his approach. Then his hand found her arm a moment later. The touch was now expected and the normal surge of fear was less for the warning. It was a courtesy she greatly appreciated, though she wasn't ready to go in yet. She felt too restless, like a wild thing trapped in a cage, and the stale air was only making that feeling worse.

"I want to stay out here for now," Elisa said as she pulled her arm back. Then she frowned when his grip tightened. It seemed he was going to insist, and she wasn't happy for that.

_Don't want to go inside..._

The chain around her ankle moved as he took a step back, and his tail vanished from hers. She felt the caress of the night snow and breathed in the crisp night air. It felt so good, and she just didn't want to go back in the cave. The air was too still, too stale there, but she could tell he was expecting her to follow him. He pulled on her arm again, but it was the rasp of the shifting chain that set her off.

“Okay, listen,” and Elisa set her feet as a stubborn look crossed her face. “Trust is a two-way street. I'm not fighting you because I trust you not to hurt me, so you can trust me enough to remove this damned chain.”

Her hands dropped to her hips and she leaned forward in her best _I mean business_ stance. Then her head tilted back when her companion touched her with his tail again. She felt him step towards her, and felt the weight of him when he placed his hands on her shoulders. They lingered there for a moment, and then slid down her arms and took her hands, pulling her forward.

He squeezed her hands and tried to gesture with them. He was trying to explain something, but try as she might; she had no idea what he was saying. After a moment of this, she grew frustrated and said, “So, does that mean you won’t, or you can’t?”

More gestures, and then she felt his tail slide down and poke at her chain. There was a certain feel to that touch, maybe frustration, and it was more telling than anything else he'd tried.

“You don’t have any way to cut through it?” Elisa guessed, and she knew she was right when the big male grabbed her hand and pressed it to his face and nodded.

“Oh,” and Elisa slumped down with a little frown. It was likely enough. After all, handcuffs were meant to withstand impressive amounts of punishment and she of all people was very aware of how stout they could be. There was only so much strength muscle could muster, and she understood that.

But the male was still gesturing.

"You are working on it?" and there was a note of hope in her voice, escaping without her knowledge. The big male nodded into her hand again for confirmation. Then, as a show of the trust she was asking for, he placed his end of the chain into her hand, surprising her.

Elisa took in a deep breath for the implications ... for without him holding the other end of the chain, she really was free, and that meant the world to her right now. She was still facing down the reality that leaving was a bad plan, but this meant more than he could know ... serving a firm reassurance of kindly intentions. For that display of trust, something inside her uncoiled, and a strain deep inside her eased, and left her with deep sigh.

Then Elisa felt him move off, back towards the warmth of the cave, which amounted to yet another gesture of trust. Feeling much better, she stepped towards the edge and lowered herself down and dangled her feet. Not a moment later, and the second-largest gargoyle made himself known. His touch was a blunter poke then the lingering touch of the large male, or the shyer touches of the smallest one. After taking one of her hands, he pressed a bowl of hot soup into them.

 _Must be lunch time,_ Elisa thought ... and that explained why the large male had been pulling on her. She felt sort of bad for causing him so much trouble, but waved the feeling off in the next moment. _Oh well, I want to stay outside anyway._

She began to feel around the bowl, working out how full it was and the best way to take it from him. It was chipped and well-worn, and had a handle on one side, though the ceramic loop was too small for her fingers to use. Thankfully this other male was very patient, and held the bowl for her as she adjusted her grip so as not to spill the hot dish.

Once she had things under control, she sensed him take a step back. His scent grew fainter, leaving the faint air currents as he stepped away. Then he, too, left – she could tell from the complete lack of any trace of him on the air currents – and she was left to herself outside again. It felt good to be trusted like this, and her body relaxed for an ever building comfort for her surroundings, and for the people living within them.

Sipping at her lunch, Elisa's tail flicked as her restless spirit calmed within her.

 

*******

 

Time passed, and the snowfall intensified into a [ gusty blizzard. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vplX-qr4AIE)

Elisa wandered in a few hours later, chilled to the bone. Even so, her return back into the cave proper was a slow and reluctant plod. She was still not too keen on caves for previous experiences, but right now the cold far outweighed that discomfort. It was warmer inside, and she could feel the air getting more stagnant and smokey as she headed in, still on all fours. Her dress was loose and airy around her, and she kept her wings wrapped snug over the top of it as a second layer.

Hand after hand, foot after foot, Elisa was only a few paces in when a tail tip brushed along her side. It was probably the smaller gargoyle again, the one that had given her the dress. That one was alternatively shy and bold in interesting ways. Over the last few nights she'd found herself liking that one quite a bit, and she allowed the tail to guide her along.

She followed the guiding appendage and the smoky scent, and it wasn't long before she felt the warmth of the campfire. A thicker tail greeted her then, careful to guide her away from the edge of the fire. It was followed by the large male's hand, pulling her to sit next to him. She felt one of his wings stretch, followed by a _whoosh_ of air as it wrapped around her, a warm velveteen blanket.

That comfort was always welcome, but when his arm followed after, pulling her closer, she almost winced. _He's getting more and more familiar with me,_ and she'd barely finished the thought when his tail coiled around her smaller one. It slid along her tail in a slightly sensual way, and he did this whenever they sat together, and she was becoming more sensitive to it lately.

Especially after he'd brushed his lips against her cheek the previous night. It had been very clearly a kiss, though a chaste one. All of this was building up to something she wasn't prepared to handle. She was growing fond of this guy, but she balked at going any further. It was something she'd been putting off dealing with when escape had seemed the best option.

At that point, Elisa had wanted him to like her, if only for her own protection while attempting to escape. That was going to be a problem now that she was certain these were good people, and she was facing up to the fact she needed to stay with them over the winter, if only for her own safety. _I should tell him,_ she thought. _No point leading him on, or making him think we have something special and that there's a chance with me._

For the truth was, there was no chance for this guy. For no matter how nice he was, there was no way he was taking Goliath's place in her life. But when she started considering the best way to broach the subject, worry began to creep in for the consequences of such a conversation. What if he was only being so friendly because he wanted ... certain things ... from her?

Elisa couldn't help but explore those darker possibilities. It was easy to get lost in thought, and she startled when the large male gave her shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"I'm just thinking," Elisa said as she straightened and forced a weak laugh past her lips to reassure him.

She quieted when she felt him touch the side of her temple, and then her lips. _He's asking me what I am thinking about,_ and she realized she must have let her nervousness into her expression, and she angled her face towards the warmth of the campfire.

 _It will only get worse if you leave it for later,_ she reminded herself, and decided she shouldn't wait any longer. She pushed away her worries, as she'd never been one to be shy about these things, and took in a steadying breath.

"I ... need to let you know, and I hope you don't take offense," Elisa said, and then plunged over the cliff as she must. "But I have someone already. His name is Goliath, and he is ... very special to me. I don't want there to be any confusion about that." She felt nervous and her wings tightened defensively around herself, as this was the telling moment.

But Elisa held her ground, even as she felt the large male react immediately to her words. She tensed as he shifted beside her, and his tail unwrapped from around hers. It didn't move far, lying next to hers to keep a more basic contact. At the same time, his wing unwrapped from around her and vanished. There was a rush of colder air and she already regretted the loss, even though the space between them was necessary.

She was surprised when she felt his tail coil tightly. It was a little odd, because he normally only did that when he was pleased about something. Most guys didn't respond so well to being friend-zoned like this ... but she was relieved when nothing negative happened. He made no further move to withdraw, and even better, there was no sense of harshness from him, no feeling of anger. He even went so far as to squeeze her shoulder in reply and actually put a few inches further between them. It was a clear gesture of respect for her wishes — friendly even! — and further proof that he was a true gentleman.

That confirmation put her fully at ease, and a deep swell of gratitude filled her heart. Once again these people had blasted through her every expectation, and she lowered her head in relief.

"Thank you," Elisa murmured, "for everything."

She felt his tail curl again, that same little movement that suggested he was pleased, and then things were quiet after that. The campfire waned and surged as the others tended it diligently, feeding it log after log while staying inside for the blizzard. The fire filled the cave with the comforting scent of burning pine, and for the longest time she had the sense the others were speaking to each other.

Elisa found herself imagining the various topics and wished she could join in. Trying to chat seemed pointless for how difficult any sort of back and forth was, and soon she was feeling lonely again. She tried not to let the feeling bring her down, though the nights seemed far longer when her belly was full and there was nothing to do but sit on warm furs around a soundless campfire and a consuming silence.

Melancholy threatened, and she rested her head on her knees and staved it off by thinking about her family, both human and gargoyle. For the lack of her primary senses, her imagination had grown more vivid, and soon she was revisiting some of her favorite moments. Half-closed eyes flitted as if in dreamtime, moving from memory to memory like a hummingbird among flowers.

It was a pleasant way to pass the time, and Elisa was so lost in reverie that she startled when the big male tapped her arm. "Hey," Elisa murmured in reply, wondering what he wanted. There was no scent of any food cooking yet, and it wasn't like she could hold a conversation ... but apparently that was exactly what he wanted. He touched her lips again, and then she felt him feel gingerly along the holes in her wings. They were slowly sealing up, all but the largest ones, which she would likely have for the rest of her time as a gargoyle.

 _They want to know what happened,_ she realized.

It wasn't a happy story and she shrank into herself a little. "It’s … a long story, and not a good one,” she deferred. Her stay with the river clan wasn’t her favorite thing to think about. She tended to sequester those thoughts, but the big male insisted, touching her lips again, and she had the sense he wanted to know details, _when, where, who._

She wasn't sure if she felt like sharing. As she hesitated and searched her feelings, she felt the tips of the other's tails touch her ankle in a show of support. The tail tips lingered and the sentiment was touching and she took a little breath. _Maybe getting it out would help_ , she thought, for she was wise enough to know those weeks of captivity had changed her for the worse. Coming back from that experience wasn't easy, and she knew those memories were a barrier that made connecting with others difficult.

How much more could she communicate with them if prolonged physical touch no longer triggered panic? She didn't even know what these people looked like, or their names, for her refusal to engage for longer than a few moments. How much of everyday life was she missing thanks to those surges of fear that urged her to reject and back away?

Setting her shoulders, Elisa decided to try and speak of it, though she promised herself she'd stop if she couldn't stay calm. She forced her head up off her knees and opened her mouth, but even for her bravery, the words wouldn't come at first. There was a tightness in her throat that choked the words, but the others waited patiently as she took the time to gather her thoughts.

"It might be easier to start at the beginning," and she spoke of her family, of her job, and of her clan in NYC, and that broke the clench in her throat. She described being kidnapped along with Fox Xanatos and the spell that took her senses from her. She spoke of fleeing her would-be murderer by following the river and her regret at leaving Fox to her fate.

At first her words were steady as she described encountering the young male and being lead into the river clan's cave, of their frosty reception, and how the gang wouldn't let her leave.

"By the second night I knew things were going bad. There were roughly thirteen of them, and some of the younger ones weren't so terrible. But the oldest ones were the worst sort of bullies. They encouraged the rest to take everything out on me. I tried to take control and talk to them, but thanks to Demona's spell I wasn't effective. All of them were old enough to know better, but without some sort of decent authority figure, they weren't alright, and none of them were old enough to be on their own."

But when Elisa reached the last week of her captivity, her words began to slow as she recounted nibbling on moldy bones and her constant, desperate battle for water. The slow downward spiral as her strength and faith ebbed saw her words become more halting.

"Things were bad for me, but up until that point I was still sure I was going to make it out somehow," Elisa said quietly. "Mom didn't raise a quitter, and I never gave up, no matter how bad things seemed ... but that last night, I was certain I was going to die."

The large male edged closer, as if forgetting to stay back, but she didn't recoil when his tail curled around hers. After a few false starts, she chose to take the plunge to empty her aching heart of those last nights.

"Near the end I made one last attempt to escape. A group of the eldest attacked me, and I slashed one of them across the face. That set off the last attack. They overpowered me and were beating me with random things, and someone dumped coals onto my wings, burning through them," and she touched at the holes at the apex, remembering where the coals had gathered as she'd thrashed. The hottest ones had burnt through, and the worst of the burn marks would remain with her. The holes were perfectly round, and would be exotic if not for their origins.

There was a moment of pause and then the large male’s hands were back, fumbling for hers. She could feel his thick tail, clenching tight around hers. She felt him bring her hands to his face, and there were more of those incomprehensible gestures.

"You want to know where they are," Elisa guessed, and the male nodded into her hand. She could feel his throat vibrating in what could only be a growl. His skin felt hot where his tail coiled around hers and he was shaking for fury.

"There's no point," Elisa said, her eyes narrowing in equal measures anger, pity, and horror. "They are already dead." She trailed off and remained quiet for a time, until a few gentle touches along her tail reminded her she was mid-story. The next part was hard, but she took in another deep breath and kept going.

"I'm not ashamed to admit I was screaming bloody murder during the last attack. It went on and on, for what felt like hours ... and though they didn't manage to ..." and here Elisa made a particular motion with her fingers, "that wasn't from lack of trying. They'd probably never gone so far before, and didn't know what they were doing, not really."

"They got frustrated when I fought them so hard they couldn't force me, and then I kicked one of them — probably the oldest — right in the crotch, and that started off the ... stabbing. I remember thinking ... this is how I am going to die ... and I just, lost it. I screamed my lungs out, and that went on for a while. I guess everyone in the cave was so focused on what was happening that no one was standing guard. They had piled brush and branches across the front of the cave to hide the entrance and keep the zombies out, but..."

Elisa trailed off again, then continued, "Then whatever they were stabbing me with broke off and they all fell away from me. I rolled onto my front, and wrapped my tail around myself to try and stop the bleeding and started scrabbling around," and she reached out with her hands and made frantic searching motions, "trying to find one of the sticks they'd beaten me with, something, anything to use for a weapon."

"And that's when I smelled it ... when I realized why they'd stopped attacking me. There was a wave ... just this intense, crazy-strong wave of ... of rot, and it rolled over me and I knew. I'd been screaming so loud that a horde of those undead must have gathered outside. I guess nobody noticed, and they broke through the barrier all at once."

"I can only imagine," Elisa said softly, "what it must have looked like, all those corpses shambling forward, with only the light from the fire to see them by. The smell was insane, and they came in as a wave, three or four deep, not easy to get around."

She felt the smaller tail touch her then, and guessed that one wanted to know how she knew, being blind and deaf. But she waved off the questions; she was coming to it. As she was taking the time to pull in another steadying breath, she felt the second largest one, the patient one, use his tail to pull the smaller one's tail away, and guessed he was telling the smaller one to shush and listen.

"I backed off with the others," Elisa continued, "and retreated to the back of the cave. I wanted to make a run for it, but the cave only had one opening, and the zombies were blocking it. I would know, I'd charged for it enough times, but this time I was bleeding and my wings hurt, and I didn't know what to do. I hit the back of the cave wall, and I could feel the other gargoyles all around me, and they didn't care about me anymore."

Elisa frowned, and bared her fangs. "I didn't know what I was expecting from the river clan. Maybe that they'd turn all those ... sticks and things they'd used on me against the zombies. They sure didn't have any problems with attacking _me_ , but it didn't happen. There was no sense of ... any sort of aggression from them anymore. I was panicking too, and I slapped away any touch I felt with my tail. I could feel them climbing over each other and up the walls, panicking."

“I felt one of them kick a smaller one off the wall, and there was a rush of rotting air and kicking, and I knew there was no other way out but _through_. So I wrapped my wings around myself like this,” and she knelt and showed them, “so there wasn’t any edges, and then I dropped down as low as possible and I _ran_.”

“I leapt forward on all fours, and ran into the first set of legs, and felt hands come down across my back. But I wiggled between them, and the zombie leaned over me and fell down. The next one was right behind him, and I darted through his legs, and moved forward like that. There were so many of them, all packed together, so it was hard for them to swarm me, and they were tumbling all around me like dominoes."

"It's hard to describe, and they scratched me, but I kept running, and I made it through … somehow.”

Elisa winced then. "I left a swarming mess in my wake, and there was no way anyone right behind me would have made it. But I broke through the gauntlet and made it to the cave entrance, and there they were more spread out.”

"I could feel all these slimy hands were grabbing at me, but I slapped them away and their fingers slid off me. I was coated with ... just slick and ... and ... gross from the run in the cave, and that helped me keep ahead of them. I was twisting and running and slapping with my tail and somehow I got clear of them. I hit an open patch and ran headfirst into a tree. I started climbing it, trying to get high enough to get away."

Elisa shook her head and settled back. "I made it, and got back on the river. I'd ... lost a lot of blood and I wasn't thinking clearly for a while after. I was sure they were following me, were chasing me down and I glided like crazy for several nights after."

"I just ... wish I'd found them without Demona's spell. I know I could have broken up the ring of bullies and turned things around for them," and here Elisa bit her lip. She'd always been the forgiving sort, the kind of person that saw the best in everyone. She was strong and had seen a lot on the mean streets of New York, and some part of her felt like she should say more. But those were the kindest words she could utter. That gang had behaved monstrously, and their deaths had been equally monstrous.

She knew in her heart that things would have been different if she'd been able to properly defend herself. "I could have helped them," she murmured at last, and fell silent. That was the end of her story, or at least, she didn't feel like talking anymore. She fell quiet for a little space, thinking, her heart full and her head buzzing, but it did feel good to get it out. This was the most she'd spoken for ... what felt like forever.

Then she was enveloped in a massive hug a moment later, all but vanished into it, surrounded by kindly hands and arms and tails, and it felt so good.

 

*******

The next night started like any other.

After awaking with the others, Elisa mentioned she wanted to sit out on the ledge again, and this time there was no argument. The others simply tapped her with their tails for acknowledgement, and then went back into the cave. The large male had hesitated, but after she'd rejected him the previous night, he'd gone back to hovering just out of the range of perception.

He didn't approach her, and it wasn't long before all trace of him disappeared. _He's gone back into the cave with the others,_ she thought as she sat down and dangled her feet over the edge again. _I'm alone again. I won't put up a fuss when he comes to get me for breakfast._

The wind was sprightly tonight, though there was no snow. Ever a friend, the winds tickled at her wings and she spread them, enjoying the feel of them filling the soft webbed span. She even considered floating out for a short flight, as it would be so easy to let them carry her off the ledge...

 _The others would have a heart attack if I just took off,_ and Elisa smiled for the thought. _That's going to be the next little push against all of their overprotective hovering. I will ask the big guy to take me out flying soon. Would be good to get a feel for the area ... maybe I will ask tonight, even._

It was a lovely thought, and Elisa pulled in deep breaths. The detective in her wanted to try and think through her situation and work out some sort of plan for spring, but the rest of her just wanted to relax and enjoy the sense of freedom the open winds always gave her. Even now, the brisk night air was filling her lungs; the sting reminding her she was still alive.

She was thoroughly enjoying the clean mountain air when a soft sound startled her. _Wait, what?_ ...and she tilted her head, and her hands clenched nervously on the ledge she was still perched on.

The sound came again, clearer. It was a small child's giggle, and at first Elisa thought she was imagining things. Then a voice shattered the darkness, dropping a hammer in the sudden appearance of a ray of brilliant light even as playful words filled her ears.

“Well, aren’t _you_ just the sorriest sight I’ve ever seen?”

Sitting bolt upright, Elisa spread her wings instinctively. After so long in silence, the sound of that voice was the sweetest music, especially this particular one; bright and snide and light...

_... Puck!_

Elisa leapt to her feet with wide-spread wings, crying “Puck? Is that you?!” and she was so excited she forgot to force air past her throat for actual words, and in the meantime, the cheery night wind needed no further invitation. Lifting her up, her old friend sent her soaring off the cliff face with a startled yip, which also didn't make a sound.

Maybe the others noticed her sudden departure, or maybe they didn't, but her heart was pounding too wildly in her heart to even think of them. Taking the opportunity the night wind provided, she aimed herself towards where she'd heard the voice, calling out again and again. "Puck? Puck?!"

Directly above her and drifting downward, an image appeared, wavering in and out, as if unpracticed and unsure. "Oh calm down, will you? You are distracting my prize pupil."

"Alex," Elisa said, realizing what was going on. She recognized Xanatos’ young son, and she floated downwards alongside them with wide, hopeful eyes. She remembered how Puck was still limited by Lord Oberon's orders, and knew any help she might receive had to be channeled through the baby. Thus, making a lot of distracting noise wasn't the best of plans...

"—and really, considering your situation, who _else_ would it be?”

Puck was grinning, but even as he spoke, he tilted his head and sniffed curiously. In the distance, invisible to all but other faeries, something bark-colored darted back into the safety of a toadstool ring. Recoiling as if encountering a particularly rank smell, Puck wrapped his arms more firmly around Alex and muttered, "Never mind. Don’t answer that."

Seeming happy to be back in his real form, Puck twirled in playful circles as he floated down towards the ground. He landed with a flourish on a flat rock overlooking the winding river below. In his arms, little Alex was delighted and waved his hands for joy.

"Oh thank god for you," Elisa said as she followed after them with some difficulty. She still wasn't actually speaking, but if Puck even noticed he didn't say anything, and seemed to have no problems understanding her.

The faerie and kin-child were a bright and gleaming light against the darkness, and whatever their light touched, reflected back at them. It cast an eerie presence within a few feet all around them, reminiscent of the shadow river in her dream. It was like seeing a hint of the real world, enhancing the darkness she was trapped within. Their light hinted at the dark magic that cloaked her and that would have been disconcerting if hope wasn't crowding out all other emotions.

But there was one thing she just had to know first. "Did Fox make it out?" Ever the protective cop, it was the first thing she asked. The last time she had seen Fox they'd been back-to-back, facing down Demona as sisters-in-arms, and so it was understandable she feared the worst.

"Oh, of course. Our dearest Fox is as alive and _tetchy_ as ever," Puck said, and then slapped a hand over his mouth a second later. "Oh, did I say that out loud?"

Elisa just grinned for the slip. Then she asked the second question burning at the tip of her tongue, along with the rest, all at once in a frantic rush. "Do you know were Goliath is, and the rest of the gargoyles, and did you hear from my parents, and what about my cat—"

Puck blinked at the question-waterfall. It was a cat’s slow blink, the one that suggested perhaps _someone_ might be a _bit_ slow — but otherwise didn't answer. His eyebrow lifted as he’d gotten no further than the first question, and focused on something above them. He tracked something with his eyes for a moment, and then nearly laughed aloud.

“So many _questions_ and so little time. Well, no matter. I’ll let your friends answer the most of those,” and Puck narrowed his eyes and then with an impish grin, glanced down at the baby in his arms. “Now, pay attention, my dear student, and I will show you a technique that will deconstruct even the most intricate of spells…”

Alex's eyes glowed white as Puck grinned his trademark grin, and they both gestured towards her and spoke in tandem, _"Demona remotis auribus tuis, et Ken, iam explicare illam divisionem, vobiscum verba, et convertimini ad lucem, vocem, et revertatur in conspectu!”_

Hearing Alex’s baby voice forming words was rather odd, but not moreso than the green glow of magic that swirled around master and student. It was obvious that most of the effort was from Puck rather than Alex, but the 'lesson' still counted. The invocation rang loud and clear, and the results were all the same. There was a sound of something cracking, like shattering glass, as the vile spell fell under the combined onslaught.

All around Elisa, the envelope of darkness burst, and her wings spread wide as her senses came roaring back.

_Oh glorious light!_

It was beyond beautiful, almost as wondrous as the sounds of life and living things that filled her ears. There were no words to describe her relief in that moment, even though the duel rush of light and sound was both a strobe-light and thundering drumbeat to eyes and ears so accustomed to silence. Her eyes watered and she smashed them shut with a gasp of surprise.

It was too much after so long in the dark, and after a moment of wobbling, she ended up on her knees.

"You don't think your friends will try to invite me in for lunch or anything, do you?" and Puck's voice was filled with honest-to-Titania concern. "I haven't the time to waste on such mundanities, seeing as I don't get out often anymore and this is _such_ a lovely opportunity to—"

The sound of the river was the first thing she really heard with any distinction. She could hear Puck's voice, of course, but his chattering was more like the playing of a musical instrument for all that she paid any attention to the meaning behind the words. She was too distracted. Her heart was too wild with relief, and she shook and shook where she was kneeling on her knees in the snow, head in her hands whilst serenaded by the rushing river and Alex's sweet little giggles and—

"—don't want to teach the boy any _bad habits_ or anything—"

The sound of the forest was the second thing Elisa focused on after clamping her hands over her eyes. Her hearing seemed magnified a thousand fold, and her mind simultaneously recoiled from and exalted in the sensory rush. The night wind was whispering through the trees, and she could hear the muffled _bumf bumf bumf_ of snow falling from their overburdened branches.

"Oh _look_ , here they come. Look how excited they are to see us, Alex. I think this is the friendliest I have ever seen them ... oh bother it all, I think we are going to be invited in for sure. Hmm. You know, on second thought," and here Puck floated up into the air, "common courtesy is so overrated. After all, gargoyles _are_ rather boring and stew is not my favorite dish, so perhaps we will chat later ... chio!"

And with that, master and student gracefully departe—

—err, and with that, Puck promptly landed flat on his perky faerie butt, ass-deep in the snow when baby Alex’s teleportation spell fizzled out at the last second.

Fortunately for Puck, he managed to make them invisible at the last second to save face (and avoid spending uncomfortable amounts of time doing boring polite things like talk to gargoyles). Being a little baby, it was understandable that Alex wasn't quite up to snuff yet, and Puck forced himself to be patient, even as Alex wrinkled his button nose and contemplated having a good cry right there.

Good luck sneaking away then…

"No, no, little one," Puck said in a hurry, bouncing the youngster in his arms to distract him. "That was quite all right; a good attempt. Now, let us try again."

Sucking in a breath that made his rosy cheeks poof out, Alex concentrated hard, and this time the spell took form. With a delighted laugh, Puck praised his little student for a job well done. "Excellent, excellent! Now come, let's see what sort of trouble — err — _learning opportunities_ we can find before we are expected back by your _ridiculously_ over-protective parents."

Happily for Puck, Alex was game, and a moment later both student and teacher disappeared, missing the happy reunion in progress. Perhaps it was just as well, because there was a whole lot of boring hugging and crying and greetings going down, and really, what sort of self-respecting faerie had any time for that...

For Elisa, there were no words to describe the next few moments … for there was a great roar from on high, and _that_ voice sent a shock of pure joy throughout the whole of her being, and then something massive and lavender and laughing — there may have been a tear but he’d never admit it — pounced on her a moment later, and they went rolling together into the snow.

 

*******

 

Brooklyn and the rookery brothers returned a few nights later.

The four had left the same night Elisa had fractured her neck, and the sight of her so broken had set a fire under their tails. Several times they'd flown without resting even once throughout the night, and crested the valley containing Xanatos' bunker on the fifth day. Getting inside and then convincing an overprotective Fox Xanatos to let Puck take Alex outside the safety of the bunker took a little longer.

Thankfully they’d found a shortcut on the way back — a furiously windy cleft through the mountains that cut off a decent amount of time from their journey. It had been one hell of a trip and they were wind-swept and chilled to the bone. But the sight of Elisa standing at the mouth of the cave, her eyes bright and responsive with a beaming Goliath at her back filled them with joy.

That moment made the rough journey and all their troubles worth it. The rookery brothers came rushing in on the night winds, swirling above and then landing on the ledge in a disorganized pack. They were too tired to be graceful, and the heavy _thump thump thump_ of their landings could be felt through the floor of the cave, not that anyone was paying any attention to such things anymore.

"Elisa!" and Brooklyn barreled into her without apology, followed by Broadway, Lexington, and a wildly wiggly Bronx. It was a reenactment of that first gargoyle-pile, only this time with laughter.

"Oh guys! I can't thank you enough!" and Elisa was crying again, overwhelmed with gratitude whilst thoroughly squished between them. She'd been tearing up on and off for relief all throughout the last few nights, and not only for her slowly adjusting eyes. She was looking more and more like her old self as the evenings passed, much to the happiness of those around her.

Looking pleased, Goliath strode forward and added to the outer layer of the group hug, his massive arms and wings put to good use. The New York clan were all together again, and everyone was deliriously happy for it. Everyone was cheering, chattering, and babbling over each other, but Goliath's strong voice was the loudest among them as he said, "We hadn't expected you back for another few nights! This is a most welcome surprise."

"You have no idea," Broadway replied, and there was a tremor between his wings, hinting at his overall exhaustion. His cold body and slight shivering was offset by the huge, toothy smile covering his face.

"Oh man, you look so much better," Lexington said to Elisa while getting back in line for more hugs. The smallest of them, he was the worst-off for the bad weather and was shaking for cold. The clatter of his teeth barely registered over the bedlam, but Hudson was already wading into the fray, pressing mugs of hot tea into their palms. Behind him, the stew-pot was refilled, battling for space over the fire with the tea kettle.

Staggering away from the hug-fest, Brooklyn snatched at his mug with a groan of relief and downed the hot fluid with noisy gulps. They'd been nights without a hot meal, preferring to get home as fast as possible, and a steady diet of dried, smoked salmon had tested their tolerance. "Please," he gasped after swallowing, "someone tell me there's something to eat other then cold fish!"

Hudson just grinned and said, "I'll see what I can do," and excused himself to stoke the fire and slap a late lunch together for the returning heroes. Bottom half wriggling, Bronx danced at his heels, insisting on more pets. His excited leaping slowed Hudson's progress towards the deeper parts of the cave, not that he minded. There was a _whump_ and a puff of sparks and smoke as a new pine log revived the waning fire, followed by a clatter of hastily gathered mugs and bowls.

In the background, the reunion was still in full swing as Broadway hauled Angela in for a group hug — steaming hot mug of tea held by his tail — when Brooklyn stepped away, and grabbed Goliath's hand.

"I take it all went well," Goliath said as he clasped Brooklyn's hand in return. He looked proud as he smiled down at his second, the roughhousing rookery brothers visible behind him. The cave had gone from too quiet to boisterously noisy and filled with life, and that cheery noise further pleased him, but his smile dimmed a bit when Brooklyn gave him a troubled look.

"Yes ... _and no_. We're not alone out here, and I don't mean Xanatos. We need to talk, away from the others," Brooklyn said quietly, and his eyes were downcast. His tail was flicking nervously, and Goliath followed after him. They spoke for a few minutes apart from the others, and Goliath's neutral expression became a frown as the minutes passed.

...but that was a story for another day.

 

*******

 

It was later in the evening when Angela remembered something she'd seen earlier in the night. The return of the rookery brothers had distracted her, but now that the entire clan was clustered around the campfire, it came back to her. Bellies full, the clan was settled down and drinking cup after cup of hot tea, and her news caught everyone's attention.

“There is another mushroom ring,” said Angela around a mouthful of tea, and her tail shivered for nervousness. “They were the same red color and pushed up through the snow. I didn't see anything, but I left straight away.”

“Hm. It seems there are more of those creatures than just the two,” and Goliath didn't look pleased for it. The woodland sprite _had_ been a real handful, even for how small it had been. His concern was not without merit, especially since the rookery brothers frequently split up while hunting, and Angela had taken to flying out on gathering trips alone now that the zombies weren't a serious threat.

It didn't seem worth the risk, and Goliath straightened a bit as he informed them, “I don’t want you or anyone else going out by themselves, at least for now.”

“Better safe than sorry," Elisa agreed, backing him up while stretching out her wings. She wrapping them back around herself for the rush of cold and added, “I will go with her. I want to get out more anyway.”

"You are more than welcome to join me," Angela said with a shy smile.

Goliath rumbled and was set to protest that Elisa was still too weak for any sort of chores yet, especially as the clan had plenty of food. The ability to glide over vast spaces meant hunting was much easier than any land-based predators, so there was always food to eat.

The main complaint was more for the blandness of the food itself. Originally from Scotland, the clan had cooking traditions that went back hundreds of years, but thanks to New York being overrun by zombies, they'd been forced to relocate to a new territory, and now they were limited to what they could gather. The native spices were unknown to them, and they were adding various leaves and herbs with great caution.

"I would prefer the two of you stay—"

But the words up and died on Goliath as two lovely heads swiveled around to stare and he stopped himself short. Two shapely eye-ridges rose in tandem, a sisterhood in the making and now there was an awkward pause and Goliath just sighed. He closed his mouth, leaving the rest of the words unspoken. It was just as well, for the two strong-willed females in his life had caught his gist and now both were sharing identical suspicious frowns.

Those gathering trips brought Angela great joy, and at his negative tone her expression had hardened _just so_. It was the sort of thin-lipped look that suggested those trips would have to be taken from her _cold, dead talons._

Being the sensible sort, Goliath recognized he was outnumbered two to one by females not even half his size, and he knew when he was thoroughly defeated. Across from him, Hudson snorted into his tea mug and Brooklyn's grin was a mile long. Lexington was smirking at the now-coughing Hudson, while a half-lidded Broadway scratched his bottom with a contented expression.

...and not one of his gender dared offer him any back up.

Hen-pecked indeed.

“I walked through one of those mushroom rings,” Elisa said, returning the conversation back to the topic at hand. She frowned and corrected herself, “actually, it was more like I stumbled through and completely _wrecked_ one. Not long after, I am sure now that one of those things jumped on my back.”

The spot on her neck was healed now, but the others had told her how her wound matched Goliath's from the sprite's attack. For her, the news had added another wrinkle of mystery to the encounter with the coastal clan. She felt a little better over the whole sordid mess as there was a chance that group might not have been the crazy mob she'd taken them for.

Goliath rubbed at the spot where the wood sprite had feasted, remembering the infernal itching. "At least we know better than to gather mushrooms from this area. Just as well, for they aren't my favorite things to eat anyway."

"Not all mushrooms are bad," Elisa said, remembering the flat, plate-like ones she'd feasted on. She wasn't much for mushrooms either, but those had been delicious, and she was determined to find more. "And the bad mushroom rings are pretty obvious."

“’Twas a _faerie_ ring,” Hudson interjected then. “We were always told to avoid disturbing them, or bad luck would surely follow.” He stroked his beard and repeated an old poem passed to the wyvern clan by some of the superstitious castle folk.

“He wha tills the fairies' green

Nae luck again shall hae;

And he wha spills the fairies' ring

Betide him want and wae.

For weirdless days and weary nights

Are his till his deein' day.

But he wha gaes by the fairy ring,

Nae dule nor pine shall see,

And he wha cleans the fairy ring

An easy death shall dee.”

There was a hush through the cave for Hudson’s words, and for a time the pop-crackle of the little cooking fire was the only sound. Small sparks floated up and faded, and outside the wind was howling, as the second snowstorm of the season started up in earnest.

“He that cleans the fairy ring,” Elisa repeated, thinking aloud. “Maybe that old poem had a different meaning back then. Because if by _cleaning_ they meant collect and eat, well, your death would be easy, because you would fall unconscious and never wake up.”

“I don’t know,” Brooklyn said, flicking his tail. “Hudson said you all woke up pretty quickly after eating the drugged stew—”

“Goliath did,” Hudson corrected with a kindly wave of his hand. “But only because he’d only taken a sip, while the two of us” and Hudson waved at himself and a blushing Angela “were already going at our lunch like ravening wolves.”

“It was really good,” Angela said meekly, as if to defend herself. “I used the last of our potatoes and bay leaf to make it. I wish I had waited to add the mushrooms until later. I really wanted those potatoes, but we had to throw the rest of the stew out, for obvious reasons.”

Broadway shook his head mournfully at the thought. “You didn’t like the taste, Goliath?”

“Hardly,” Goliath replied, glancing down at Elisa. “I would have been feasting with them, but I was busy dishing out a bowl for Elisa and only took a taste. It was enough to drop me, but not for the length of time the wood sprite needed to finish us off.”

Elisa shivered for more than just the cold draft that made its way into the cave. She was far happier, but the fear was still with her for the long months spent in the darkness. It would be some time before she was truly back to herself, though these last few days had been a dream. She looked up to see Goliath smiling down at her, and she wrapped her wings a little more snugly around herself, as he stretched out the wing nearest her and wrapped her up as well.

That touch was fully welcome now, and she pressed closer, smiling when she felt his heart skip a beat.

“I always thought of wood sprites as friendly,” Goliath said after a brief pause, resting his arm on his knee. “The old stories suggested they used the rings for dancing and merrymaking, not drugging and sucking the blood of travelers or beasts.”

“Not all of the old stories were so light-hearted,” Hudson countered while ripping off a thin deer-haunch and taking a massive bite. His sharp fangs made short work of the stringy meat. “Some of them gave the hatchlings nightmares,” and the deer haunch bobbed merrily in his fist as he gestured.

Elisa's lips twisted into an unhappy expression, and not for the first time did she wish she knew for certain what had really happened back on the coast. If what had jumped on her had been another wood sprite like the one that attacked her clan – and the scaring across her back and Goliath’s seemed much the same – then what had happened along the coast might not have been the attack she’d assumed it was.

The detective in her wanted closure, but that seemed unlikely. _I will never know,_ Elisa realized, _unless I ever plan on going back_ , and to be honest, she didn’t. Some things were best left in the past, and her mood lightened when Goliath squeezed her shoulder and smiled. She relaxed and let it go, even as Hudson was warming to the topic.

“You remember the traveling friar that visited during the Howling Winter?” Hudson asked, glancing over at Goliath and then the rest of the rookery brothers.

“Hm, yes,” Goliath said, “I remember he was very popular, and full of old stories.”

“I would have liked to have met some of these old storytellers,” Elisa murmured, thinking of her mother’s love of old history. Diane would have loved to have been part of the time-traveling shenaniganry Xanatos had gotten up to some years ago. Well, Xanatos, Demona, and the phoenix gate, anyway.

Elisa’s lips tightened into a thin line at the thought of Demona, though that was a threat for another time. She was pulled from her dark thoughts by Broadway’s offering of deer mutton.

“I don’t remember that,” Broadway said as Elisa took another portion of meat. Beside him, Angela leaned back and nibbled at her own piece. The meat was gamey and lacked spice, and it wouldn’t have been to taste just a scant half-year ago. But now that she was accustomed to wilder offerings, it was nothing short of heaven.

“You wouldn’t,” Hudson said with a fond smile. “You were still in egg at the time. It was a bad winter, one of the worst. The castle-folk were low on supplies and wanted to turn the old man away, but the King insisted he be given shelter. The friar spent the evening with us, and spoke of mushroom rings and stories of townsfolk and their beasts disappearing."

"Do you remember any of those stories?" Broadway asked, in the mood for a good tale. The others clamored agreement, and after some pestering, Hudson assured them he remembered a few good ones, sure to raise some hackles. Having just survived a horror story, Elisa was less keen and took the moment to excuse herself, wanting some fresh air.

After refilling two tea mugs, Goliath followed after.

 

*******

 

Whispering down through the mountains, the friendly night winds found Goliath and Elisa nestled together a little ways upriver.

By that point, the snowstorm had blown over, and now the whole of their world was covered in fresh new snow. Dawn was a few hours off yet, but the night was brighter for the light of the moon reflecting off the snow drifts. Night breezes stirred the powdery snow, and glimmers of moonlight shimmered all around them.

The mountain air was brisk and clear tonight, scrubbed clean by the passing storm. All was muffled and quiet. Above them, a snowy owl ghosted by, hunting the river bank for mousy unfortunates. Turning in lazy circles, he suddenly dropped down and landed heavily into the snow, talons sinking deep after a swift little vole. But fate was kind tonight, and the thwarted owl flew up and floated away, leaving the vole to live another day.

It was a perfect night, however cold, and Elisa leaned back into the warmth of Goliath's chest with a soft sigh of contentment.

They were on a flat rock overlooking the water, now tamed by a veil of ice along the edges. It wouldn't be long before the entire span was frozen over, but for now the [ sounds of rushing water ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0EY28tdiFlc) serenaded them, and it was some time before either of them felt like interrupting the melody.

“I can’t believe you didn’t recognize me,” Goliath said.

His words were quiet, but there was the smallest note of hurt in his voice. For the sheer volumes of hell she'd waded through, she couldn’t quite bring herself to apologize for not recognizing what seemed so obvious now.

“I did notice some things,” Elisa defended herself, though her tongue was firmly in her cheek. “But I didn’t think you would ever chain me or keep me locked up in a cave!”

“Whatever else was I to do,” Goliath exclaimed with an arched brow, “when you kept biting me, and hurting yourself while fleeing to your own death?”

“Well,” Elisa said with her nose wrinkling, “anything sounds bad when you say it like that—”

Goliath made an incredulous noise, even as Elisa smacked him lightly with her tail and bolted, and he gave chase a moment later. She led him on a merry chase up into the air and down through the trees. They waltzed across the skies for a little while, until Elisa misjudged a turn and ended up landing in a snowdrift near a grove of pine trees, only a short flight away from the cave.

"Are you alright?" Goliath called as he landed a few paces away. She nodded and smiled, looking back towards the cliff face in the distance. They should be heading home, she knew, but she wasn't ready to go back yet.

Neither was he.

Instead they nestled together under the sheltering pines, wings wrapped around each other and content, and after a while Elisa whispered, "forgive me?" and he smiled back.

"Always," Goliath said and he kissed her.

They shared breath then, kissing back and forth, and his fingers traced over her body. The feel of them, coupled with her other senses, brought to her only longing. Then he was stroking down her back to her hips. He traced over the sensitive spots where wings met back, running gentle fingers down the small of her back to her bottom, and she pressed closer.

She gasped when his fingers traced lower, tracing over her slit, and then slipping a finger inside to stroke her. She thought she might feel fear, but there was only a slow building fire inside. It had been so long since hands had been a source of comfort and she ached for this, needed this after so much misery.

Maybe he understood, probably he did, because his mouth was kissing a hot trail down her neck and her hands were buried into the nape of his neck and his tail was curling around hers, and it all felt so good. His tail slid up and down hers in sensuous strokes and he pulled her up on to his lap. She could feel the heat coming off his skin in waves, and she couldn't get close enough.

It wasn't long before she wanted more and she tugged at his belt. Her fumbling fingers were covered by one of his larger hands, and he must have helped because a moment later it was gone and she felt him then. He was big, bigger then anything she'd ever taken, but she wasn't afraid, not with him. All the while she felt a low and growing rumble in his throat to match the firmness down below.

It was the sweetest sound and it traveled through her and heat was coming off him in waves and she was wet and aching inside, ready, ready. She tried to lift herself up, wanting him in her, but he stopped her. His muscles tensed and he held her, unwilling to take her yet. Instead he took his time, and made sure she was alright, and the detective part of her realized that and appreciated it, even as that part was shoved to the side and she pulled on him again.

"Easy," he murmured and started again, making damned sure she was ready. He was sensitive to her movements, knowing her fearful instincts were right under her skin, and he was careful with her. He was aching too, but he slowed them down, and began kissing up one side of her neck and down the other, and then he was nuzzling her chest, careful to stroke over every part of her.

She breathed him in and whispered, "need you," and felt his pulse quicken and his wings shivered and she moaned when he responded by positioning himself. She was aching for him, and then he was pushing in, inch by inch. Then they were one and he was moving, a slow and steady thrusting, and a little trickle of wetness slicked her inner thigh and then she ran her fingers through the powder-snow, trying to find purchase, trying to ground herself, and then he was kissing her again and she was lost, lost the the sensation.

She did everything she could to stifle her cries, but soon even that control was lost, and she cried out again and again, spurring him on, harder, _please please please_ as the fire built into a roar. She could hear the drum-beat of his pulse, his breath coming faster and soft sounds escaped his throat.

Then the tightness below burst, and her back arched and she heard him strangle back a roar. They soared together, savoring each other, and then she nuzzled in close and buried her head into his chest, and suppressed tears of relief and joy.

She knew it would be some time before things were truly back to normal, but with him here, she knew everything was going to be alright.

Satiated, they breathed together, lying under the snow-blanketed branches. The friendly night wind was dancing all around them, as if delighted by the display. The powder-snow was collecting in little drifts, swirling in pleasing patterns as the mountains began to glow in the distance.

Dawn was coming.

“Welcome home,” Goliath murmured in her ear, the heat of their love-making still radiating from his skin. Then he gathered her up in his arms, and Elisa closed her eyes and smiled.

The future seemed bright indeed.

 

Finis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and that's a wrap!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I will probably revisit this universe again later, but if I add to this story, it will be as small, self contained stories here and there. Thanks again for reading! <3 <3 <3


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